WHAT EVERY LOVER LONGS TO HEAR

Into the whirlwind of your love I come,

into this wild that is you,

in all, with all, under all.

Betwixt crushing ancient mountains together, 

while flinging galaxies eons older apart,

you, O Holiest of Holies, 

speak to me of a love new like no other,

a wildly intimate, wildly inclusive love.

Like a seatide rising at my shore, 

your wilding seeps into me slowly, but surely,

one wavelet escorting the next and the next,

breaking apart  my rocky self-said boundaries,

setting me free, resetting my course,

sending me to the furthest horizons of hope

and other infinitely wild places within me.

You bring me safely to a new world, 

a world called  “One! . . . Beautiful! . . . Delight!”

You reassure me there is no place

that your love cannot, does not call home.

Even in the midst of all that is death,

your love is easing, your grace attends.

Upon the cross winds of your spirit 

you raise me up, you bear me, you carry me 

far beyond the reaches of my known, 

to where I hear what every lover longs to hear;

your sweet voice beckoning me, 

“Come away, my beloved.”

Gladly, gladly I come. 

Humbled. Honored. Loved. Wilded. 

I come.