Ever had an urge to pack your bags, hit the road, and head for destinations unknown? When the travel bug bites you, it's an itch you've just got to scratch. For some people – like those folks who pack their whole lives into RVs and spend years driving from one little town to the next, or backpackers who give up personal space and daily showers to wander the world – the travel bug never really seems to go away. They're always on the lookout for a new horizon to chase.

The speaker of "The Seafarer" is one of those people; no sooner has he gotten home and put his feet up than the cuckoo's cry reminds him that it's spring – prime traveling-time – and before he's even had a chance to unpack, he's on the road again (or in his case, the whale-road).

Of course, most people don't travel forever. Eventually most of us reach a place so comfortable, so familiar and right, that it feels like home. And at that point, even the most hard-bitten of wanderers may just decide to unpack and put down roots.

Finding a stable home is easier for most of us than it is for the speaker of "The Seafarer," who sees only death and decay in the "life on land" he rejects. But even he eventually recognizes that a home is waiting for him somewhere. It's just that in his case, the home is not anywhere on earth. It's in heaven. So as it turns out, all this traveling is just an effort to get home.

So what's your true home? A tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea? A sophisticated studio apartment in the middle of Paris? A sprawling ranch under a big mountain sky? Wherever it may be, if you don't search for it, you'll never find it. So what are you waiting for? Follow in the seafarer's footsteps. Pack your bags and hit the (whale) road! But, you know, make sure you read the poem first.