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Without a Compass
Wandering from place to place, seeking reality;
Thirsty for truth, hungry for love, craving peace.
Desperate attempts to reach the shore of that land;
Yet I search without a signpost, without a compass.
A dusty group of an ancient books sit on my shelf;
Just over my left shoulder as I write this poem to you.
My mind is drawn away from this keyboard, wondering;
I return my to focus on this poem, without a compass.
No longer am I seeking out a home within this wilderness;
No longer do I even know in which direction should I walk.
I hear a still small voice gently speaking from within my soul;
My heart is drawn to the book, as I'm without a compass.
I open the cabinet door, and pull out my worn old book;
Opening it, it falls to the 13th chapter of First Corinthians.
Always my favorite text, showing the truth of God's love;
My heart is stilled as I read… no longer am I without a compass.
23Feb10
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