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

Comments

Popular Posts

Life At The Altar Rail: 22 Behaviours Categorized

You Know You're In A Progressive Catholic Parish When... .

Review: Saint Gregory's Prayer Book

You know you're a REAL altar server when... .

Zigzagging Toward The Catholic Renaissance

Instituted Acolytes & The Exercise of the Subdiaconal Ministry

OFFICIUM | Psalm 45 excerpt

MY heart is inditing of a good matter : I speak of the things which I have made unto the King. My tongue is the pen : of a ready writer.

Excerpt from Collect for Advent I

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light.

ST AUGUSTINE

The truth is like a lion; you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose; it will defend itself.

MARCUS AURELIUS

There is but one thing of real value - to cultivate truth and justice, and to live without anger in the midst of lying and unjust men.