Approaching a Mysterious House

I yearn for the home I do not know
It calls to me as I roam
My soul aches as I wonder
To be home, out of the thunder

There is a bed. I long for it’s comfort

It’s location, I have no proof
I am not worthy to be under its roof
I continue to search the tales
For a shelter made of lumber and nails

There is a bed. I long for it’s comfort

The aroma of a sacred celebration
Cleansed of all repeated damnation
I’m hungry for the lamb and wine
I pray one day for my soul shall align

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