The thorny thicket hides the lost sheep in mourning. She’s unable to escape, unable to run, unable to move. In a vast expanse of the wilderness, punctuated by ravines and thorns, the way back home is vague and uncertain. It is a battle against daily sorrow, which hinges the sheep from escaping and tracing the path toward home.
On the opposite side of a windswept hillside, the shepherd counts each wooly form with his keen eye.
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