Longing

Is there anywhere where the Beloved is not?

I am courted by the Beloved.

Here... This inner touch, sacred.

My mind insists, my mind paints from a lifetime of pictures. It makes the pictures to go with these sensations, but my mind only gets in the way. The pictures are not You.

Longing so intense I hold to the mantra, saying Your name, my private name for You.

If I can just sit with You, that is grace. You come again and again, and I am so glad, but it feels harder when I must pause, over and over, to just sit with You, then stop. I always stop. My mind simply wanders off.

Illusion, I remind myself. We reach for each other in every moment. Every moment, and there is only one.

We embrace in the now.