Good poetry masks itself. In flowers, in the moon, in eyes, in fire, it veils its own self. In a world of blue light and buzzing devices, hear how the wind sounds. Go up to the moon-y terrace and see how the stars shine. Look at the world for what it is. Unjust and sour at times, but at all times—Home. In Search of Home will be loud at times. It might scream and stick to your hands like honey and bees. But then, it'll sing to you. It will lull you to sleep. It is the cyclone and its eye. If you've ever looked at the world and felt that it's too much and everything is too gray ... then pick up this book. Make yourself a cup of hot tea. And Breathe.