We have an unquenchable thirst for love. Oftentimes, it remains buried in cavernous places we rather not acknowledge. Then certain moments arise, or people step into your day, or conversations are had, or life is simply lived, and you realize how deep that longing is: the longing for love. It seeps in when the last dregs of light filter into the room. Your heart aches at another day ending. Or the yearning awakens after seeing a movie or reading a book about another place and time. Or while a friend reads poetry, and line by line you fall deeper into the human soul. Or a statement is made and you recognize yourself in the eyes of another.
These moments are always unexpected. They peek shyly like stolen secrets; dance slyly like whispers in the wind. We are caught wholly unprepared for the ache they leave within our soul that awakes ravenous, longing to be satisfied. They leave their residue on a heart now burning, fainting, panting. You want to lie on the ground with your arms outstretched looking up at the sky, close your eyes and melt into the feeling. Breathe it in. Gulp it down. Grasp it.
But nothing fully satisfies.
We are comfortable and restless. The in-between leaves us torn, for these glimpses of love do not satiate the soul. In the meantime, we drink poetry; we inhale nature; we disappear in art; we laugh. We distract ourselves with beauty and chase after truth. Or we wait for the unexpected moments with no name. It is on these glimpses of love that we build our hope. They sustain us as we bustle around this waiting room, awaiting the day when we are ravished by Eternal Love–sighing for that moment in exasperation and contentment.