I Am Not of This World

I walk among the kingdoms of men,

but my heart does not dwell here.

The stones beneath my feet are foreign,

the riches of this earth turn to dust in my hands.

They build towers of pride,

they chase after shadows,

but I hunger for what does not fade.

I am a sojourner,

a pilgrim in a land not my own,

searching for a city whose foundations

are not built by human hands.

The world calls me to bow,

to trade truth for comfort,

but I cannot kneel to what perishes.

There is a fire within me not lit by this earth,

a voice that whispers of home,

a kingdom unseen yet nearer than breath.

I am not of this world—

though I walk its valleys,

though I taste its sorrows,

though its storms beat against me.

I belong to another place,

and until I see it with my eyes,

I will live as a stranger here,

with my heart set on what is eternal.