And homeless near a thousand homes I stood (Wordsworth)
We are homeless hybrids. Split between the natural world and the
spiritual world, we wander and wonder, vacillating between fact and faith,
ever searching for a home. Weak and needy, but proud and petulant, we have
no ecological niche and must rely on wits and luck. Like orphans who feel
frightened and forlorn, and fight to be the favorite, we hope and pray
that God will have pity and take us home, even if only for a visit.
Competing interests: No competing interests