A poem.
Storms roll in.
The clouds fullness
blocking the light of the sun.
Behind these grey obstructions in the sky
The sun waits,
Longing to kiss our skin
with her rays again.
Aching to fulfill her purpose
To illuminate her bodies:
Earth, creatures and plants.
Meanwhile the flowers soak up this rain.
They too long to fulfill their destiny.
Blooming in their glory,
For all to adore their brilliance, in bright colors unfurling.
They cherish the rain
Just as much as the sunshine on their petals.
For they know
All is part of their path to fulfillment.
I watch my baby
as she discovers her body.
Arms and legs flailing in a seemingly haphazard direction.
Each movement corresponding with a sound,
A grunt
A squeal
A cry
A coo
She too longs to reach her purpose as well.
To grow,
To inhabit this body.
Has she not already?
I feel into my heart
And sense the longing living in there.
Wanting to be touched,
She aches for closeness
And intimate knowing.
This energy of longing,
Yearning to reach our fullest potential.
To splay open my insides
Warmed by the glory of the sun.
But for now I must recognize
That my yearning is being met
By a presence that is never waning.
I can notice these places,
And reflect upon the journey.
Awareness is always here.
The clouds part,
The folds of their curtains
Revealing the bright sun.
Back on center stage,
She never stopped shining.
She just had to patiently wait
For her co-star to play their part.
Just like she,
The clouds yearned to quench the earth.
One is not grander than the other.
The waiting is not a problem,
For their roles never cease.
Their longing
Is intertwined into the perfection of all things.
Just like my baby
Is not questioning whether what’s she’s doing is on purpose.
For she is the intelligence of this right order of all things unfolding.
So I ask my heart if she to
can know that her longing has been met.
A very long time ago.
Before she landed on this planet
And grew inside my chest.
Her destiny was fully regarded,
Mapped out by the best.
The same presence that’s witnessing me now.
So longing is a concept,
Illuminating lack.
A belief that I’m not fully on my path.
It’s the same as believing the sun has gone away,
Or because the clouds have parted
They won’t come back another day.
Rather than acknowledging
Their symbiotic relevance.
All aspects of the whole.
So as my heart reaches out,
She also recedes back to her home.
Held by the great mystery,
There’s no need for patience.
Again, just a human idea.
That our destiny is not already here,
That my longing
has not already been met
and witnessed,
by the stars
and the planets
and the galaxies
and the comets
and God herself
As myself.