The partial

Long poetic nights spent awake, dragging through the dry and undesirable to find the lush, fruitful heart of creativity. I would speak, but there are not yet words to speak and so instead I listen, but there are too many things to hear. All the while the lines drag in and onward and out onto the open pages. In my heart I sit at a window looking out over a beach at dusk. You're here with me and I have so many questions to ask you, but the words don't come... My mouth is dry and empty, yet my eyes soak up the sun and the depth of the tides as they come rolling in and in and I am saturated through and through. How beautiful it is. How glorious you are. I step down and my toes sink into the sand and the feeling is so real. There is nothing else that I need right now. I have walked here before so many times and now I wonder, when can I come home and stay. I want to be home forever. Embrace me and engulf me, let the sand smooth over until I fit perfectly in this one place. The sun sets across the ocean sky and we're here counting the days that have gone. Your face, so dim with your solemn eyes telling me of all the times that you have cried. How perfect is the heart of sorrow that sweetly awaits that moment when that which is partial fades and that which is complete returns, filling all these spaces with perfect joy. Mmmmmmm...and here you are, waiting with us. How blessed we are, how truly blessed.