hello sir, You've only come for a visit

i woke up this morning to the Ache.
it followed me from room to room,
as i brushed the tangles from my hair.
like a puppy to its master,
like a leach to its prey.

i wash it off with upward strokes
and bind it's feet with wire.
i feed it promises of comfort,
pillows and vices and crutches and such,
hoping to appease it's hunger.

the gnawing within.


but there it is.
here it is.

tall and proud
short and hidden

lurking
lurking
leaving me wounded.

i'm maimed and broken,
tears coat my eyeballs
and dance upon my blinking eyelids.

i'm a mourner in a black veil
i'm a loser in a broken world
i'm aching aching aching...

i look upon Glory,
i feel traces of the Wind,
my fingertips melt from Fire,
and i lick the Oil from upon my lips



these Ones are the messengers,
and the Ache is the scroll they unveil.

watch him LEAP from the pages,
scurry across the floor,
and make room within my ribs
and take laps within my veins

and nothing can exist without it.

i'm diseased,
i'm toxic,
i'm wasted away by its pain.

and there is not much i can do.
i'm a helpless baby locked up in a crib,
watching through the white wooden posts
what could be, should be, shall be
and knowing i am still
only
a helpless
child.

the Ache is beautiful, even in its pain.
it's the words of Isaiah,
the songs of Solomon,
the fire of John the Baptist,
and the promise of He who shall come again.

the oceans of california,
the serenity of love,
the trees of all the forests,
and the hands of all the friends

only pull back the curtain
and make the Ache sing.


"I am only but a vapor,
reaching for a King."

yet

i looked at the Ache today,
and we spoke over coffee.
i laughed, he cried -
and we pondered the meaning of life.

we sat and painted these words on the wall,
even if with invisible ink,
"I exist to know a Lover,
and you, dear Ache, exist to take me there."


the Spirit (in all its Aching) knows how to make the Bride say, "Come"

Even so,
Come Lord Jesus
(and finish, this Ache, that you started)