Each moment is longing,
holding my breath to see,
what You have in store for me.
Each moment is pure desire,
hope bubbling up like dew,
discontent clouding the air,
tears like weapons of despair.
Each moment is full
of my ignorance,
my owned yet disowned arrogance
that I must control the narrative.
In truth, each moment is a gift,
a delicious unwrapping, unravelling
of sign after sign after sign,
all perfectly sensual and divine.
The universe erupted
from Your desire to be known,
our lives a series of cycles
of longing to return.
This being waits with quivering impatience,
avoiding hurdle after hurdle to see,
what exactly it is
You have in store for me.
When will she stop resisting
the floods of love meant to break her,
and surrender to the stillness and storms,
seeing only the light that will take her?