Holding unfulfilled dreams in my hands
Remnants of a life interrupted.
Hopes grown stale
now crumbling in my hands.
I could weep for the younger version of myself
running races he could never win,
slamming into walls he never saw coming.

It is hard not to dwell in
the land of Might Have Been.
It is hard to say goodbye to this path
and proceed along another
with different hopes.

Thomas Wolfe said
You can’t go home again.
But sometimes you can’t be at home
where you are at either
nor can you reach for the home
that is yet to be.