MEET

I am tired. I have been this way for awhile. It is a mind consuming weariness; a pack of worries and responsibilities cinched together by thick ropes and laid across my back. My tiredness is nothing compared to some, and almost disabling compared to others. It is tiredness that we all feel and then will eventually feel again. We are none immune to it. I lay my head against my pillow in a dark room in a night where the sky is run through with flicks of stars. From here, they look minute, but I know they are part of an extraordinary greatness. I consider this, but draw back into something small, my small life in such a big world, where understanding is a little easier. My prayers to God, in this place of smallness, are audible to the walls that surround me, and I wonder how far the reverberations of my voice's sound reach. Do they make it the stars, to the point of enormity and unsatisfied heat, or does God hear them through the tiny, tiny perforations in the night sky, a tiny pulse of words that tell him a story? I just want to meet Him somewhere, it doesn't matter to me, and take off this pack of worries and lay it at His feet. This pillow, this place where I rest, I fear is not the rest I need sometimes.

MEET
me in the
middle where
marbles flipped
by child hands
roll in concentricity
to the core and
disappear without
a scratch across
the ground or
MEET
me at the edge
where I will
turn sharp curves
and right myself
in the pixel light
on the periphery
where borders
between opposites
blur and fade
MEET
me at the
beginning or
end of circles
radiating from
a singular stone
thrown into
the serenity
of a still lake
I do not mind
the place or
time or plane
of orientation
but
all I want
is to
MEET
there where
a reality
erupts from
a place of
crossroads