he watched the stars as if they were home,

dreamed of a place where there was no war,

no hatred, no cruelty.

this place surely could not be home.

he was as much of a stranger here

as someone who would come from the stars.

he was born to this place,

but somehow he knew

home was somewhere else

someother time perhaps

or someother reality

but not this place

he watched the stars as if he would go there someday,

a stranger coming home for the first time,

again, finally.

the milkyway dansed through the sky.

his dreams swirled through the stars

like the night swallows that danse around the tower.

they fill the sky each dusk,

and his mind soars with them

to somewhere else

someother time perhaps

or someother reality

but not this place

years and dreams have past

the stars still danse

the swallows still soar

and he still dreams

a little less certian that he'll make it home

but he still dreams

and the milkyway still fills him with wonder

and the birds still bring him peace

and his soul still danses like the swallow

through the stars

to somewhere else

someother time perhaps

or someother reality

but not this place