From the east he roams
Having never found a home of his own
Always dragging his stone with him
Wherever he goes it goes
Where will he stop
No
Nowhere
Not even he knows
They have broken his nose
Tried to harvest his bones
Drawn him in his blood
Yet, he continues on
Drawn by the calling
The howling of finding home
A place to call his own
Amongst those like him
The odd little creatures
With features no one else seems to like
Lying amongst the ficus
He tells them, “welcome one, welcome all, to the land of perpetual fall”
Here there are none like us
And that’s why we welcome all
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About the Creator
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Comments (1)
The essence of the gospel itself. Where all are loved & receive grace.