Bringing light to that which is dour,
Beauty that penetrates the three layers
Resonating and reverberating between them
Torn from home in the bosom
Shaken and thrown
She assimilates, adapted
Many at this stage apt to do
However, it is different now
A constant drumming of something amiss
Others acquire and treasure, conquer?
Perhaps, perhaps not
But still not quite abiding
No homely state, still something askew  
The others scrimmage to dominate
The light, beauty, and nature
Wars, they toil and tug until
Of home only traces remain