Fading away from all that surrounds her,
she searches fervently for a love unknown,
a surreal, unimaginative love,
a love that she’ll never know firsthand.
Some say it’s right within her reach,
but she doesn’t see it.
she doesn’t see anything.
Desperately fumbling in things unknown,
things that would cause detriment to the whole of her being,
immaturity strips her of her knowledge of the Almighty,
thrusting her into a world she never meant to enter.
Now that the threshing floor has been crossed,
there’s no turning back, or so it seems.
Cautiously treading her way
back to Him who knew her best,
her silent pleas of whispered desperation are heard
and she weeps uncontrollably, silently.
Never knowing that He weeps for her also.
He weeps a sea of crystal-hued drops
that is the product of her longing and rebellion.
She refuses to cry out to Him, refuses to love Him—
refuses to even acknowledge Him—
but wants to be loved…
She deems herself a Christian
while being pious and religious,
but never tasting the fullness of His love.
At times, she knows He’s there
and she’ll absentmindedly recognize Him,
but only for a moment,
as though He were a stranger
she once knew and called Him “friend”.
So relentless and jealous is He,
with His faithfulness so true.
Maybe one day she’ll see His love,
but not today
Musings of a Wanderer 
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