The One I love…
Waits, gently insistent,
Trusting my inconstancy,
Touching my weakness with sure strength.

The One I love…
Calls, breathing my name
As tho’ I’d never a name before,
Framing my syllables with delight.

The One I love…
Comes, with a fierce tenderness,
Gathering my willing blindness
Into a fiery assent.

The One I love…
Hides, causing me to seek Him
With a lambent longing that
Fragments me into wholeness.

The One I love…
Withdraws, holding me at a cradled distance
Until He can bear my need of Him no longer.

The One I love…
Moulds, forms, fashions me
In a hungry flame that coruscates
My very being.

The One I love…
Dies, momently yielding up what He is
In a consenting passion that
Demands my company.

The One I love…
Lives, vibrantly, exuberantly alive
And fuels my appetite and zest
For loving.

The One I love…
Is. He graces my living with freshness. Endows my grief
with meaning. Grants my loneliness
A home. Binds my wilfulness
To obedience. Burns my anger
To compassion. And calls me –
Oh so willing- to a death,
That we may be
The One I love.

Anon.