The Furtive Glance



This “remembering” of the Beloved…
It's a Gentle affair…

Soft and tender.

Not a grasping after, a groping,
Seeking to hold and keep…

For She cannot be “found”.

Not something “done”,
But rather, being "taken"…

Through Love and Surrender.

A movement, through Remembrance,
From the Beauty of the outer…

To the Sublimity of the Inner.

Not abrupt,
But a furtive, sidelong glance…

“My Love… are you Here?”

A movement of Affectionate Longing,
But without expectation…

For She dwells not in the future.

Less a “moving toward”,
Than a “waiting for”…

Here… Now… Still… Quiet… Longing.

Perhaps, at first,
The subtle wafting of Her Perfume…

The Fragrance of Heaven.

Then… the Warmth of Her Presence,
As the Heart Illumines.

And then…
The Embrace…

In which Lover and Beloved
Vanish…

And the Heart's Desire is Fulfilled.