Wander why

I wake each day though I am alive, yet somewhere beyond myself my mind still wanders.
All my life I have felt out of place, as if I entered rooms where even the air grew still,
where silence gathered and listened.

In my younger years I was wild with life,
but as I grew older, something deeper began to change within me.
I saw what others could not see,
felt what others could not feel—
the ignorance of man, the sorrow, the sickness,
the endless damage left behind.
And it weighed on me until I felt it in my bones.

So I found my peace in the forest,
among the trees, the animals, even the smallest insects.
There I felt renewed, restored,
as though the earth itself were speaking softly to my soul.
I found myself drawn into things I could not explain,
moved by truths I did not yet understand—
especially about God, the Lord, and the world.
For years I laughed at my father,
but now I cannot laugh anymore,
because he was right.

Now I am sixty,
and though my body rises each morning and carries on with its work,
my mind still drifts a million miles away.
I carry a deep compassion for life,
and there are times when even the smallest thing can bring me to tears.
Inside me is a great reverence,
a quiet and holy peace,
as if the damage no longer has power over me.

Sometimes these feelings come over me suddenly,
as if I am being separated from the world,
and yet I remain deeply aware of everything around me—
as though I am being taught,
shown,
and gently explained to by something beyond myself.
It has happened since I was young,
coming and going like a breath or a sneeze.
And now I have learned to live within it,
to move in and out of it whenever I choose.

It feels as though I have been given
a sacred peace,
a rare love,
a knowing I cannot put into words.
I do not know why I am here,
but my body has endured enough pain to have ended me more than once.
And still I remain.

There are things I hear that others cannot.
There are feelings I cannot explain.
But I would not trade them for the world,
because I believe they were given to me by a higher power—
by the Lord.
I hear Him calling.
I feel Him near.
Though my eyes are blind to much,
what I see in vision is clear.

And so in my time,
I believe I have been blessed by grace all my life.
I know I was made to be a lightworker.
I know I was meant to carry something special.
Perhaps I am the one who was chosen.