isn’t light but a gaze, too?


I feel the tangled harshness liberate itself in every corner of my body, the gaze of my heart flooding the vast landscapes of creation. through this gaze, I become intimate with sunbeams— isn’t light but a gaze, too? a consciousness that sears through the shadows, manifesting them to the truest form they have always embodied deep within.

and dearest God, with this gaze a simple realisation floods me with You. the enormity of it awakens my perception. the deepest hurt of incapability and disempowerment— that I do not even know how to love myself.

on my own, I do not know how to soften this tension of failing to be kind to myself. to love and honour and empower myself with the responsibility of being here, of doing it right in this worldliness, to meet You with all of me, instead of but a fragment of the seeds you’ve sowed in my soul.

I do not know how to love myself enough to do this, dear God. that’s the truth of it. that’s the truth of my deepest hurt, running through the hoarse dryness of ancient memories.

but, may You love me instead?

may You show me what I cannot show myself?

may I only open this heart with my nothingness and replace all my strife with a glimmer of Your endless Love?

may I surrender this limited knowing to Yours?

I have nothing left but to come to this. I pray for your effortless, sublime divinity. I pray to become replaced by You to truly become.

may You do everything for me? may Your sight and vision become mine? may Your warm wisdom flood the burned forestry of my mind?

may You love me just so that I know how to love others well? to look into their eyes with a passion that is not mine, to embrace them with the intimacy of You in my soul, to hold their hands just as You do in my broken, endless, needy plea..

and that is the gaze of sacredness flooding my dreams.

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