It is 1 am and the house is very quiet, the only sounds are of the two computer sitting on the table in front of me, and the occasional tapping within the wall of an idontknowwhat. I am waiting and hoping for a phone call that I doubt will come tonight, but one thing hope has never been accused of is being reasonable.
I rambled this off a few nights ago, and could not come up with the end of it until last night in front of a dying fire. At first it was simply to or perhaps about someone, but as it went on it took on other aspects as the material before me changed and grew. The more I wrote, the more apparent it became to me that the poem was also to Someone, the lover of souls. When you first hear that phrase, you think of a Being with a love for souls, but not so much as a lover of souls. But this is not what seems to me to be meant by the phrase. If you hear that a man is the lover of a woman, you know it is as a lover that he relates to her, while someone who merely has a love for another does not have this same relationship. (I am not sure that this is making sense, but I've been thinking about it and the house is quiet and I am not thinking about my paper). In any case, the poem below is not only addressed to someone, but is also to Someone.

~ ~ ~

Silent was the night
that saw you come to me.
Trepidation fills me to the point of tears
echoed in my trembling hands.
Moonlight streaming through the cold clearness
witnesses the ache and the emptiness
welling up and consuming the night.

Ah, this foolish foolish heart-
Jack of all and master of none!
Still you seek after my true self,
hidden closest to my inmost heart.
As from afar, I watch as you seek to enter.
I long for you, to be with you,
for oneness where I am whatever I am
desiring to become so entirely part of you
that I am continually dying within myself.

Yearning for, while still fearing
the fulfillment of the emptiness,
my tears, the scorned heralds of
the weary conflict, fall upon the
heedless page. Why can I not
find the courage to place my
trust in You? What have I to fear
in the flame of Your love?
For Your love is Truth itself and
the consummation of myself will yield
only greater Love.