Midnight has struck and the old year’s dust sleeps softly on
the hearth, not recognizing the new ancientness by which it has been
befallen. You, too, are asleep - but I think you have forgotten, for you
cannot remember to wake up. This new year means little to you, so lost
in the wandering depths of whatever far-away dreams have claimed your
slumbering heart.
I see your soul sleeping gently there, ever so still, ever so fragile; and the sight of you—no, of the absence of you—leaves me broken somewhere deep within my own hollowness. I want to gather it into my arms, cradle the fluttering shell of you close to me and whisper things that will light my breath on fire in your ear—illuminate my words, penetrate your dreams at last with the dagger-sharpness of every hopeful thing I have within me.
This is every hopeful thing:
You.
Are.
Not.
Alone.
I want you to know it, to remember as you wander through these caverns and halls so far away, where voices are convoluted into dream-shapes and my lonely arms cannot find you. You are not alone. You are not last year’s mistake. You are not this year’s redemption. You are here. You are now. You are this day. This hour. This moment. This heartbeat.
genuinely
dearly
deeply
truly
unimaginably
Loved.
Love is now. You are now. Such a precious coincidence, don’t you think? I can sense your anticipation, the breathless edge upon which your heart is strung; for you are like me: your finity has longed for Forever. And though you have not known it yet, I assure you - the collision of the twain is more beautiful than anything you could ever dream.
So please, dear heart. Stop dreaming.
Open your eyes - won’t you do it, darling? I miss their gleaming beauty, those windows to your soul; but their shutters have been closed for so very long, and I do not remember the look of their laughter. Open them now. Brush the dust gently from your fitfully waking heart, and do not let the centuries of its slumber make you fear what you will see, as you gaze upon the dreamless world at last. It’s okay to take it slow. Don’t be afraid. Only remember - the first steps of waking are simple:
You are new, dear one. Happy first day. I hope your first breath is as full of release and wonder as your last one will be. For there will be a last - our finity has not reached Forever quite yet, and these breaths are so transient and fleeting. But do not weep for the day when they end. Only treasure them while still they are yours. Someday - perhaps today - you will stop breathing. And when you do, your once-dreaming eyes will gaze into eternal eyes at last. Eyes that have cherished you since first they sketched the pages of your soul, since first they mapped the many-splendoured pathways of your mind; eyes that have seen the birth of the greatest light and the death of the greatest darkness.
The eyes of your Jesus.
Someday, your waking eyes will look upon His dreamless beauty. But not yet. Not now. For now you hope. Now you live. Now, dear one, you breathe.
But even as you wait for that moment - that final moment, which is really the first of all—
Happy New Year, dear heart. You are so deeply loved.
Love,
Me
I see your soul sleeping gently there, ever so still, ever so fragile; and the sight of you—no, of the absence of you—leaves me broken somewhere deep within my own hollowness. I want to gather it into my arms, cradle the fluttering shell of you close to me and whisper things that will light my breath on fire in your ear—illuminate my words, penetrate your dreams at last with the dagger-sharpness of every hopeful thing I have within me.
This is every hopeful thing:
You.
Are.
Not.
Alone.
I want you to know it, to remember as you wander through these caverns and halls so far away, where voices are convoluted into dream-shapes and my lonely arms cannot find you. You are not alone. You are not last year’s mistake. You are not this year’s redemption. You are here. You are now. You are this day. This hour. This moment. This heartbeat.
genuinely
dearly
deeply
truly
unimaginably
Loved.
Love is now. You are now. Such a precious coincidence, don’t you think? I can sense your anticipation, the breathless edge upon which your heart is strung; for you are like me: your finity has longed for Forever. And though you have not known it yet, I assure you - the collision of the twain is more beautiful than anything you could ever dream.
So please, dear heart. Stop dreaming.
Open your eyes - won’t you do it, darling? I miss their gleaming beauty, those windows to your soul; but their shutters have been closed for so very long, and I do not remember the look of their laughter. Open them now. Brush the dust gently from your fitfully waking heart, and do not let the centuries of its slumber make you fear what you will see, as you gaze upon the dreamless world at last. It’s okay to take it slow. Don’t be afraid. Only remember - the first steps of waking are simple:
first you breathe.
THEN YOU LOOK INTO THE LIGHT.
You are new, dear one. Happy first day. I hope your first breath is as full of release and wonder as your last one will be. For there will be a last - our finity has not reached Forever quite yet, and these breaths are so transient and fleeting. But do not weep for the day when they end. Only treasure them while still they are yours. Someday - perhaps today - you will stop breathing. And when you do, your once-dreaming eyes will gaze into eternal eyes at last. Eyes that have cherished you since first they sketched the pages of your soul, since first they mapped the many-splendoured pathways of your mind; eyes that have seen the birth of the greatest light and the death of the greatest darkness.
The eyes of your Jesus.
Someday, your waking eyes will look upon His dreamless beauty. But not yet. Not now. For now you hope. Now you live. Now, dear one, you breathe.
But even as you wait for that moment - that final moment, which is really the first of all—
breathing doesn’t mean you have to look away.
* * *
Happy New Year, dear heart. You are so deeply loved.
Love,
Me
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