Set in Sandstone

awoke in an unfamiliar place,
Spitting all too familiar tastes,
Onto the ghosts I’d passed.

And in mistakes I’m wandering, lost.
Wandering, wondering, wavering, lost.

My pockets exposing their emptiness:
Abandoned peers and empty nests.
With nothing to see but blinding sun.

And so I guess I’ve wandered…lost.
Wandered…wondered..wavered. Lost.

Lo’, then as if wish fulfilled
a course appeared to guide my will!
But I’ve walked too long to turn around.

And now I still wander, lost.
Wander. Wonder. Waver. Lost.

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