I stroll down to the wee burn
The snow feathers through the mist.
I carry my camera
I carry my cares
I carry my requests
Yet I carry His presence.
Alone yet not alone
Out of the Spirit, into the mind
Impressions
Knowings
Perceptions.
I walk out of the mist
Back home
He carries me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem