I've Wandered Too Far From The Touchstone
I’ve wandered too far from the Touchstone;
And this emptiness has led me to dig my own wells,
Wells that won’t hold water.
You’re the constant echo of that other place;
Where, when aligned with its heart rhythm,
Peace is a noun I can claim.
I’m hurting myself,
Because You won’t;
Grace feels too cheap;
And I won’t aim where I suspect You could deliver me.
Everything is abstract when You’re too far away;
Except You’re not,
It just feels that way.
I’ve returned to the garden,
Not to some idealised Eden;
But that other place,
Where olive trees stood ageless in the shadows;
Where you sweated blood so I didn’t have to,
Where I know You feel my pain.
I’ve wandered too far from the Touchstone,
And You call me back,
But my name spoken that clearly,
In this still wretched heart,
Makes me clench at such shame.
But You’re about prodigal cleansing,
And I turn to the warmth of Your face.