The Journal of a saint

I do not know a love so deep.

As the love I know for you, My King.

You are grand and wise.

You see beyond.

You see me.

I do not know what it is to be seen by a man.

I am hidden from his gaze.

But you see.

You know

Me.

You delight in me.

And I do not recognize,

For sight of me is something I do not know.

I am weak,

I am tired of the lonely cries

Which echo in my human soul.

My soul is lonely.

This is a truth I’ve come to know.

But, it is a truth that is all together false.

There is nothing alone about my soul.

It is full of that which is good.

My king ~

Oh, my king.

You see me

You see my soul and breathe life into it’s lungs.

You hold me in the dark of my loneliness

And you invite me

To

Be held.

Held by your breath which surronds me like fog.

Fog which socks in a small coastal town.

Your breath is my life.

It is the love that holds.

You are my life.

You are my love.

You are the only love my heart has ever known and it is steadfast.

My love for you is deep.

Like the ocean floor and the depths of one galaxy to the next,

It is deeply unfathomable,

I do not know it’s end and cannot recognize its beginning.

My love, my King,

You to me are life.

Allow that life to dance in rhythm with the music of your heart.

May I not push it away for fear of being found out.

May I welcome your love as a blanket in the midst of the freeze.

You my God, My King, My Love,

You do not leave me,

Even when I push you aside…

You stay,

You stay.

You

Stay.

You invite.

You move.

You welcome.

You are here.

I feel you in the darkness of my sadness,

Your love captures my heart,

and holds it in your lap;

A place I do not know how to visit

A place I can not visual resting

Your lap.

I stand behind and watch as others one by one,

Come to you,

Kneel before you,

And come,

To

You.

I stand and watch.

I long to know the place of the beloved lost child.

But, I have stayed my course.

I have colored within the lines.

And I do not know how to empty myself

Before you.

My God, my King,

I creep out of the dark.

You invitation is ever before me.

But, it is a curious unknown invitation.

I do not want to be like the pauper,

The brother who squandered his life.

I have been good.

I have been good.

Always so good

I’ve given you everything!

My comfort.

My life.

And you wait,

You invite me to come and I keep sending them;

Tired

Worn

Lonely

Sad

Angry

Depressed

Alone

Sinful

Wretched

Lost

I send them all to you.

For they need you more than I.

For I know I am welcome.

I know…

I

Know.

But the welcome has now turned into a longing.

A longing that no longer is satisfied by allowing others;

To kneel

It is my turn

My turn to come

To stand

To lower myself

To receive.

To

Receive.

My God,

My Father,

My King,

Receive me.

I am desperate.

My tears are the only gift I have.

I kneel,

Not out of will,

But

I can no longer stand.

I’m tired

I’m sad

I’m angry

I’m lonely

I’m worn

I’m sinful

I’m wretched

I’m lost

I’m depressed.

I gasp…….

I fall

My legs can not stand a moment longer,

My father.

I beg you.

Receive me.

Your daughter~

Receive me.

Receive me and my tears.

Your lap welcomes them both.

And I am stilled

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