My One, Parch-Lipped Question

If I could ask God just one question it would be this:

When, O my Lord, will the moment arrive
when I shall become dissolved again in You?
This desert has become oppressively barren and dry.
My soul thirsts for the fresh dews of Your Love,
Your vitalizing breezes, the wine of Your
intoxicating inspiration.

I wait at the gate of my soul each morning
for news of your return.
I long for the sweet smell of wet-grass rapture,
Everything spilling into a green, shimmering Oneness–alive!

Still the rain does not come.
Still, this waiting.

My life is all this one, parched-lipped question:

When, O Beloved,
when will you…
return?