the pain of this nothingness.

The first thing I’d think about upon waking is the kind of good morning you’d love to hear, or perhaps the possibilities of a conversation soaked in morning light, a visit to the garden where we sat in reverence and dug the dirt out for love. 

But now, there’s nothing of that anymore.

Yesterday was liberating, I’d felt I was made for His love alone. Yet, today, the empty space is getting clearer, and there’s this side of me that wants to run to you, hold your hand and dream of meeting you again. There’s this heart beating for you, my love. Now, it’s floating away towards divine skies.

It feels like my heart has died, dear one. I’m mostly asleep all day— and even when I’m taken to shores where love is to be shared, I find this numbness, this grace, this unpredictable death of all yearning. I talked to God while I stared at the mist and saw how I was meant to never drop His gaze.

We made out of this garden a heaven, love. How can I come close without dropping, even you, away.