There are days where I wake up and long for the lands my forefathers called home.

The feeling always comes to me like a wave that’s finally understood the power it carries. It takes me off my feet and isolates me completely from my current reality. I find myself longing for villages I do not know the name of, smells I have never smelt before and a language I do not truly understand. And yet I feel it all. Sometimes it’s a song I hear. It takes me to simpler times, times I did not experience, yet can recall with absolute certainty.

Maybe this longing will forever remain, maybe it’s an essential component to who I am. I worry that these lands which I have never walked upon will leave me one day. That day is not today, today I feel their force so strongly that the land I walk on is nothing more than a feeble illusion. The pull of this mythical village soil is incessant. Maybe I was meant to be born to another generation, in fact I am sure of it.

In this home, the only arbitrators of right and wrong were the sun and the moon. Both were worshipped by the village folk with such reverence that words became obsolete. The power of the suns daylight and the strength of the moons nightlight was more than enough to keep order. The spirits of the men and women who inhabited these lands come to me, often when I’m in need of guidance. I listen to them intently as I know their advice comes from a place beyond the harshness of today’s modern world.

There are days where I wake up and long for the lands my forefathers called home.

 Today is one of those days.