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~ By Courtesy of Others ~


Sometimes I feel like nothing more
than a broken tool in Your hands, Oh God.

I have been passed back and forth
between You and Your flame-haired sib
so very much
that I no longer know
where to call home.
In the wake of the storm comes the fire
and when I seek the fire
the storm is never far behind.
I suppose I am condemned to wandering
as You both so often do.

There are worse fates though
than to trace again the footsteps
of Gods... even if sometimes the journey is a lonely one.

I will do the things You ask
as gladly as I can,
knowing that at some painful point in time,
You both did as much and more.
The hall of Your heart
shall be my home;
and those of like blood
my tribe.

I will look upon Midgard
as a passing journey
and try not to resent
the dissonance of its song
There is beauty here as well
where You and Yours have passed.
I will seek out all those places
You have been,
as fervently as i can.

I ask only this:
Leave me clues, Oh my Wandering God,
that I fall not too far behind
or lose my step upon the journey.

For I am mortal
and sometimes the pace of the journey
is difficult.

And if I lack grace in my steps
or my feet hesitate and stumble
understand, Beloved Lord,
it is not for lack of desire
to catch up to You
nor for lack of love.

It is my way, locked as I am
in this morass of human weakness
of finding the road
both duty and love has paved.

Sometimes I may falter or even err.
That is worse than any agony
Midgard could ever hold.
I do not wish to fail you in anything.

And yet: You are never closer
than when I feel You the least.

I do not ask that you wait for me,
but only that you not forget I follow behind
in Your wake.

That dessicated, wailing thing is me.
And I have been walking
a very long time.

Galina Krasskova

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