We are all wanderers in our proverbial deserts
Seeking, ever seeking, for a hidden oasis
Lying just beyond the horizon, over one last hill,
Made up of what quenches our parched souls.
We know exactly where to go without compass or map
Having visited our wellspring of healing time after time
Aware but constantly pulled by the dust storms of life
Chasing after mirages of who we ought to be.
Maybe we need to close our tired eyes, dear soul,
And let our hearts lead the way instead of our minds,
Guiding us forward instead of pulling us sideways
Leading us directly toward that place of stillness
Where we can rest our heavy shoulders and weary feet.