Friday, October 18, 2013

A Pantseratic Poem

Not all who wander are lost.
And not all who are lost wander.
So at times we cast a net,
or play the fish when we forget. 
And those who are lost but wander still
They shall see things the ‘found’ never will
but it's to the ‘found’, who wander free,
Who will know what it means to be.
Songs, 23:10, Book of the Pantser

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