Tuesday, September 13, 2011


I wish the lost were lost with you Lord. 

Like I am. 

Lost with you instead of wandering, rambling by themselves, 
or worse, 
gathered together in packs of foolishness, 
collections of of ignorance, 
led by the blind, 
going nowhere. 

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, 
the moon?
Why do we call Him the Spirit?
Is it a harkening back to the wind?

As I wander down dream trails, 
thought rails, 
spirals and snails, 
I know I'm not lost. 

You're with me. 



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