Outcasted

Pain is the soul of poetry.

I am outcasted!

A broken vessel, wretched -

a dream, discarded.

Wounded, avoided,

and everywhere rejected -

I am a leper!

No one knows

who I am.

---<--@

Wildflowers

Thy soul is a quest

to undestand exile truth -

Thy heart is afire!

And grew to adorn

these far away, distant lands -

thy brave blossoming!

Thou art wildflowers

who in thy seeking blossomed...

for a moment, lost.

Now thou art

Home again.

---<--@

To every flower, a field;

to every heart, a home;

to every human life a blossoming;

unto every truth a true belonging.

But every blossoming that braves

the valley of the shadow of exile -

these are known as "wildflowers"

and they belong to every field

and they adorn every home.

- selah -

In the end, we are all wildflowers.

---<--@

Every stranger given welcome becomes strangers no more.