Be Satisfied, be satisfied!

I have spent my time falling in love with an idea, perhaps the man too as he is like no man I have ever known, but mostly the dream. I recklessly throw my heart to a reckless lover—hope. So I was warned, so He told me to guard that most precious, tender cradle of emotion from which pours my love, my hate, my passion and fury. I did not. I have never learned how. Like a fisherman fresh on the water at dawn I cast my heart—my net—into the sea of faces, hoping beyond hope that when I pull it in at days end it will contain love, it will contain fulfillment. But it does not for I have cast it into fallow waters, devoid of the ability to truly satisfy. The currents in these waters are strong, tugging on my net in a deceptive way, luring me into believing that there is indeed a fish. But when I pull it up, when I inspect the subtle, twined web of my net, it is empty and only my tears are caught, glistening and numbered within its labyrinth.

My Father asks me: have you found your fulfillment apart from me yet? Have you found that for which you search?

No, Father, I still seek and I do so in vain.

Before He even speaks the words to my heart, I have known them.

Child, I am the satisfaction you seek. Be satisfied, be satisfied! Your pain is real, but it is not your Reality. Drink from my cup and you will want no more. Be satisfied.

But Father! Why did you implant this dream in my heart?! Why does it grow in me so; so deep that I cannot uproot it; so deep that it pushes and overturns and tills the tender soil into which you placed it? Why Father, why?! My tears are not enough to water it, my hope is not enough to feed it. My dream stands looking at me from the inside out as a starving child is want to do, with eyes that bore through me and a growling hunger that haunts my words, my thoughts.

But He does not answer my why. This is a lesson I must learn and not be told. After all, when it comes to the learning of lessons, can I truly embrace a truth I have not felt in my bones? Oh, there is more to this crude existence, something higher, purer and more worthy than the longings of my traitorous heart!

And yet I sit here, cradling the dream, dreaming of that man, trying in vain to convince myself and the Father that I will give this up, I will train my thoughts on His alone—but for tonight let me mourn the dream. And I am not convinced, nor do I suspect is He.