I saw trouble in the world so I ranged far and wide, and free.
Many hours spent navigating the dust and pain of territories beyond my home.
Sadness at their suffering.
The wind whipped at my edges.
My heart grieved.
Then one day a voice called me home, when I could hold no more.
No more pain. No more dust. No more suffering.
But I saw that my home was tattered. I saw that I was ragged there.
I saw my own pain, the mounting dust.
So now I am not traveling to refinish and repair the home of others.
I am not ranging through the wild despair of other territories.
My house must be mended.
My land must tended.
I must be made whole.
Then, and only then, will I range wild and free.
To my healing…to support what the world needs.
And to yours.