The Wanderer

Photo by S.M.E.

I left the Lord at the edge of my folly
And walked until hope wasted away;
Drifting by those sadly familiar places,
Among the weathered and tethered faces,
Seeking a path to freedom
And coveting a life
No common man could give,
I fought to live
Among the nomads, the wearied souls;
Bleary-eyed and beaten,
I sought a rare gold,
And, made cold by the search,
I turned around to see that
God was exactly where
I left Him waiting for me.

W14SEPT2019C

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