Waiting Makes Us Holy, Set Apart

Father, I always understood:

now I know.

I am a man.

I ache. I long. I yearn.

Desire for this creation, for man,

is unceasing.

I am God and Man.

As a man, I wait.

I wait for the sun to rise and set.

I wait for the seasons to change.

I wait to eat and wait to sleep.

As God, I do not forget that you

are always there.

I do not forget that time is your subject.

I do not forget that the you design every moment.

I do not forget that you do not delay.

Some days are long.

Some days are short.

Father, sleep is a strange phenomenon.

I knew it when we made it;

now I know it as I dream.

And Man does not know

that he is not the only one who waits.

We wait.

We wait for him to remember

our goodness and our love.

We ache. We long. We yearn.

We wait through every second

for him to stop and look and taste us.

We wait for him to know us.

Father, though the hours grow long,

I will wait a little longer;

then the sacrifice, our sacrifice,

will be complete.

Then I'll be with you again,

and wait for man, my own, my self,

and help perfect him

as he waits for my return.