Christine Eaton
Gossamer

Gossamer

I sit and spin my little web. Filament, filament, filament. Out of myself I throw it into the wild, wild world. And on days like this when I do not see it catch, lonesome, lonesome, lonesome screams my heart.

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Prone to Wander

Prone to Wander

Lord, bring me back. Bring me back to Your ancient foundation Where all things hold together. Because I forgot it for a while; I left on a road that tempted me with roses And only gave me the thorns. How did I end up this far away? I barely even noticed it happening,...

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