A Thought on Thursday...

This World is Not My Home    by Charles Wright

The more you say, the more mistakes you'll make,

                                                                                        so keep it simple.
No one arrives without leaving soon.
This blue-eyed, green footed world—
                                                                   hello, Goldie, goodbye.

We won't meet again. So what?
The rust will remain in the trees,
                                                       and pine needles stretch their necks,
Their tiny necks, and sunlight will snore in the limp grass.

This world is not my home I'm just a passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore
Oh Lord you know I have no friend like you
If heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.