The Feather

All alone in this thing
Called the 'world',
Like a loose feather -
Floating back and forth.
Through the air and sky -
beautifully curled;
Gesture of protection -
Fear of hurt, insecurity.
Soft on the outer;
Tender to touch.
Hard through the centre;
Fear of trust -
Unworthy crutch.
So the feather wonders
Lonely and enclosed,
Only desires to rest,
In a warm place called 'home'.
Until home is found,
The feather will wander -
Always curled -
Seeking to find,
The meaning of the world.
Home will feel real,
When the feather,
Slowly drops.
and rests in peace
Free of loneliness.