Traveler
Long ago I was wandering,
No direction, no compass nor map,
Then I found what I was missing,
And I have been following this path.
I have stumbled, tripped and fallen since,
But the path remains unchanged
Winding, straight and narrow.
I am no more than a traveler
Slowly working my way home.
I count the stars as I drift to sleep
And watch as the sky is painted
Pink at dawn, then orange at dusk,
Sun gives sky to the moon.
I play a harp for Him,
As I worship along with the song birds,
and the otters swim by my side,
The stag lie with me in the grass,
and I converse with the ravens.
I have seen mountains on this earth,
Seas and fields of green too,
But I am convinced my home,
Is far more beautiful than those.
Have you ever read Mary Oliver's poetry? I think you'd enjoy "Wild Geese" in comparison with this one.
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