The wallet is found, but the cross is still at large. I know it is near, yet I cannot see it.
I know I am surrounded by love, and yet I cannot see or understand this often enough.
Will I ever find an end to this lost-ness? It’s not as if I don’t know where I must go. Rather, it is the journey which wearies. Processing stinks. I want to be home.
Musical Milliner 