One never reaches home,' she said. 'But where paths that have an affinity for each other intersect, the whole world looks like home, for a time. - Hermann Hesse

I wanted only to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?

Rain

Soft rain, summer rain
Whispers from bushes, whispers from trees.
Oh, how lovely and full of blessing
To dream and be satisfied.

I was so long in the outer brightness,
I am not used to this upheaval:
Being at home in my own soul,
Never to be led elsewhere.

I want nothing, I long for nothing,
I hum gently the sounds of childhood,
And I reach home astounded
In the warm beauty of dreams.

Heart, how torn you are,
How blessed to plow down blindly,
To think nothing, to know nothing,
Only to breathe, only to feel.

In any case, the most lively young people become the best old people, not those who pretend to be as wise as grandfathers while they are still at school.