I am not at home here.
I keep thinking that I will turn the corner And find it in someone, something, some place. But my people are not of this world. And so, I keep moving, searching, Now and then thinking That I have found the place Where I can rest. But inevitably, I discover That there are places they cannot go. And each friend finds, in course of time, his people, He finds his place in the world And settles down. And two can't walk together When one is called to stay And another called to wander. And so we part, He to his congregation And I to my solitude. And to the world, I am alone. And God alone knows that I am not. Comments are closed.
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