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Nttinghill (m)
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I'd strayed into a parable
And become so many things lost
and so many things unable,
Seed or dust with a prize or cost.
I was heavy, my scattered dreams
Tailing a thousand threads of wind;
I had forgotten what it means
To be loved or, worse still, gladdened.
So I suffered loss, thereupon,
Living a dry life stuffed with bran,
Till I saw the splendour of One
Who works in ways no one else can.
I no longer wander the fields
Since I found One who, for me, redeems
The one meaning of my life,
The one thread to pull home stray dreams.
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