Wandering Feet
by john p reed
2008.01.08
A life of false-starts excused
as exploring the many paths to myself.
Direction-less, wandering feet carried me
everywhere but where I wanted to go.
Searching for the warmth of the nest,
I traveled into the depths of me.
Decrying myself I recoiled
from the solitude I saw there.
The simple truth is that in the end
I am, and always will be, alone.
I laugh at my self-deception and, I think
I understand God just a little bit more.