In the driest times of my life.
When the days were young
and the skies were clear,
You stood at the midst
of grassless plains and soulless trails,
of footprints made by one
who had none at all
but his void of a heart.
Sick, depressed;
waiting for his demise,
his very own destruction.
but,
You were like rain pouring
to quench a desert's thirst.
You were like wind blowing
upon still and quiet pastures.
You were like fire burning,
consuming until nothing -
was none at all.
You were something.
until
Your winds blew harder
and Your sails grew wider;
until the shine in Your eyes
could be seen no more.
I grew weary,
tired of being a vessel so empty.
I could not run away,
because at every end —
and at every stop —
I would always find myself
wanting for more of You.
I may not be your destination,
but I know that You are mine.
I will always find myself
coming back to You.
The dreamer dreams
of nightmares too
of visions, so clear
so bright and blue
But we always know
that dreams end too
too late to say that—
I Love You.