“Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart…”
There must be more than the feeling, the experience, the answer. Are you the long longing, the inherent question, the unfulfilled desire? Are you what I am not meant to find though I seek? A door not meant to be opened though I knock? If I were to find, and the door to be opened, what would remain? I look and all is left wanting. Especially myself. I don’t want to pray just now, because I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to revisit the old worn out words just yet, because I don’t want to look. I want my life to be a prayer. I want my body to be the words. Somehow we lose you (or more so, ourselves) along the way in our need for definition. But I think perhaps you (or we) are meant to be lost.
We can’t disassociate from the past. And we ask: What is it all for? What is breath if there’s only death. What is love and longing and intimacy if it is all to be someday lost. Why is the earth so brokenly perfect if it is only meant for flames. Why are our bodies so expiringly beautiful if they are only meant for graves. If it is only “there,” what of “here”? Why bleed for our desires and build our homes among tombs?
We are alone. We are lost. In the in-between.
But…there is love. Both crossing and joining the boundaries of what was, what is, and what will be. Love is all there is to bring meaning to the now and hope for the then. It’s something to celebrate and something to await. It permeates the was, pervades the now, and promises the then.
So all I ask for are the eyes to see the love that gives all things meaning; the love that makes all things new.
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