A Thousand and two

She hadn't considered it in a very long time,


Maybe never.

What was it that made man worth the trouble?

Better yet, worth a desire?



Now that she thought of it, she had to acknowledge,

It could not be wholly separate from divine revelation,

Divine intervention.

The drawing that drew her, or any woman for that matter.

But especially her, with her principles and standards

Her need for the Divine.



Those details she had once dismissed

As nonessential to the foreordained scheme.

Or at least assumed would fall neatly into line with.

The one surely would not err out of line,

As he would follow The One, act according to plan.

That would be her sign, her comfort, her peace.

God only knows it was peace above all else that she craved.



The things that drew her, what whet and warranted desire,

Those had gotten lost in the formula,

In the well-meaning spiritual speak.

All she knew was when the time came, they must be squelched

Until all else were tested, tried, true.



It wasn't until one reminded her,

Spoke to that part of her soul where desire lay dormant,

Hidden, ignored.

Not only of the desire itself,

But of the sources, the stimulants that possessed the drawing power.



This one spoke truth in substance and in nature,

And glimpsing signs of life,

This one called her out.

This one spoke truth.



It was the truth that resonated.

That forced her to gaze in the reflection,

In the mirror of that soul's truth,

That reminded her of her own.



This one was not the first to do so, and perhaps he would not be the last.



She had known true devotion of the greatest self-sacrifice.

Unmoving, stable, steady

Strong arms to hold her when the world spun out of control.

That held her so tight they magnified the differing beats of their hearts,

Pressed tightly, clamoring against one another.

And when the world stopped spinning, those arms didn't let go.

Strong arms became shackles, and true devotion no longer bore the mark of truth.



She had known artists, wordsmiths, thinkers.

Each coming close, yet falling short of the mark.

Digging in vain to unearth desire, offering up their best.

Some bore false witness, others' efforts fell on fallow ground.

She could not be prompted.



A thousand had attempted and failed.

A thousand and one were not worth mentioning.



It was this kindred truth, and that spoken in her language,

Which drew out  desires she had long dismissed.

Demanded she be true to self; demanded she follow.

It astonished her to think perhaps she could follow.



She hadn't considered it in a very long time,

But perhaps The One had been winking at her considerations all along.