I wish the lost were lost with you Lord.
Like I am.
Lost with you instead of wandering, rambling by themselves,
gathered together in packs of foolishness,
collections of of ignorance,
led by the blind,
I'm lost, but in you.
I too suffer under blind leaders,
guiding me nowhere,
but you are always with me.
At least in you, I stumble in darkness toward hope.
I saw the moon beside a palm tree tonight,
and thought it was the sun.
Why do we call them the sun,
Why do we call Him the Spirit?
Is it a harkening back to the wind?
As I wander down dream trails,
spirals and snails,
I know I'm not lost.
You're with me.