Beloved

Beloved.

I want to be empty. A blank page; an impenetrable darkness. And to be alone. Unmoved.

Except that I know that the blackness is not a vacuum, but a space in which I can discover another, not myself, and that your nature is ‘beloved’.

Then I want to reconstruct. To explore you. And find afresh your nature.

To see and understand, unclouded by present ideas.

Who will you be? What is your nature? Do you have a name?

Or are you shifting like the wind? One moment gentleness, the next compassion, the next fierce holiness?

I want to stretch out my mind before you like a canvas: vulnerable, open, expectant, powerless.

Powerless to influence how you will move. Keeping nothing back. No essential agenda. No prized treasures that must be incorporated.

Just blankness. And trust. And hope. And you sitting silently in the darkness, waiting for me to be still enough to resonate in tune with you, and the channels of communication open up,

So that my ‘Beloved’ finds a long-poised echo: ‘Beloved’.