Lost and found.

I'm going on a journey

nobody knows,

especially me.

And in that?

An ache so visceral,

my lost control,

coins dropped

and scattered

down the drain.

And I can only think

of a future frantic collection,

fingertips scoring sewage

to find what I’ve lost.

But what is lost

when You’ve already

found them?

But what is found

when they’ve always

been tucked

in the folds

of Your robe?