Because poetry at midnight is always a good idea...

A lover. A deep feeler. An aware soul.

A lover whose love has often not been received. A deep feeler, who often gets lost in her own depths and is found with treasure few have understood. An aware soul, whose awareness has caused an unquenchable ache.

Why, O Lord, does pain demand to be felt? The ache of the awareness that this world is not what you intended leaves us feeling empty and battered. Fully alive in the worst way. As the haunt of tears stings the eyes – another slash to the soul. A heaviness, too great to bear, too attached to remove.

And yet, a whisper in the dark night of the soul. The smallest of sparks. So faint, yet on the backdrop of dark silence, it demands to be heard. So brief, yet in the surrounding depths, it is all that exists. The whisper of a word. The Word. The only Word who brings light and hope to an unending darkness and an unquenchable ache.

This Word -- the inventor of depth, the innovator of the soul. This Word, who has trenched deeper into the depths and further into the darkness than I will ever need endure.

But the darkness could not overcome this Word.

In His victory over it, He comes to me and whispers, “See, my beloved, in whom I delight….I am making all things new.”

Oh, to see the day when the Word made Flesh will wipe every tear, and remove every sin, and we will be made new, completed, whole…to dwell with Him forever.