The little orphan and I walked down the mountain to the city to buy shoes. She slipped out of her small rubber sandals into a new pair, carefully counted 45 rupees (less than one US dollar) into the shopkeeper's hand, and walked away.
"Wait! " I called, as I reached for the discarded shoes. "You've forgotten your old sandals. "
She glanced back at me, "No, leave them," she firmly replied. "I only need one pair. Leave them for someone who has none. "
Oh, abide with me, where it's breathless and it's empty
yes, abide with me and we'll pass the evening gently
stay awake with me and we'll listen more intently
to something wordless and remaining sure and every changing
in the quietness of now.
There are things I cannot prove, and still somehow I know.
It's like a message in a bottle that some unseen hand has thrown
you don't have to be afraid, you don't have to walk alone
I don't know but I suspect, that it will feel like home.
