Roots

I am far away, but reaching.
My seedling began on the Father's root
There has never been separation
But my growing shoot has trailed off afar
...a long and winding root
Gnarled and twisted
But still reaching...still touching
My branches stretch out like hands
Groping to find their origin
That place where my seedling began
But they grasp in all directions
Keeping me in one spot.