That the Rains Might Fall

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I long for…
love.

Your love,
and to love you just the same.

Not merely to receive,
neither to give,
but to know,
to feel,
to be a part of, as if immersed in a flowing stream.

All I have,
all I am,
on the altar to be turned to ash,
might that I could,
if just for a moment,
understand a fraction of the truth of pure love.

My eyes, they scan all horizons.
My ears, with each new sound, alert.
My nose, vigilant, to follow the sweet aroma.
My tongue, to taste of the honey.
My hands, moving in search of yours.

And within,
my heart, my soul, the well of my being,
waits patiently,
that the rain might fall,
that even the smallest trickle might be diverted,
bringing the fullness of the spirit
to the depths which exist only that they may serve
as a vessel
for love.