Sometimes I feel like I am working on an old memory;
the passion is real, the memory strong, but
the hunger for the now is equally strong, and
I wonder where you are in the worry and the wildness of my heart and mind.
I miss the electricity and that forever-knowing.
The insights still come, and I identify inspiration, but
it comes like a blind date, or perhaps a gift in a sealed envelope,
delivered by a voiceless stranger.
The memory would be enough to carry me home, and
duty would be enough to fuel my resolve to do right,
and press on, but
I am aching and wondering if obedience would be better served with joy than pain.
I faith You, but in these swirling, unsettled times, I feel the need to
feel that You are near.