Rough Draft No. 2 - Holy Contradiction

LORD,

I want to yearn for You. 

I do.

I want to plug my ears with my fingers

  until You are all I hear,

  a whooshing 

  pounding 

  pulse.

I want to pick my way up

  the jagged rock of You,

  certain of every foothold,

  knowing that my gasping self

  will always find

  its next breath

  in You.

I want to burst into parties —"SURPRISE!" —

  and search the faces for You.

You are treasure.

No grimy coin on the sidewalk,

No quarter flecked with gum,

You are the lottery and I win You every time.

Every time I fix my eyes on You,

and not on others' scurrying feet

or the pulsing lights above.

I want to be the lost sheep

relieved You found me,

and I want to be the 99

never doubting You'd return.

I want to sing of You and keep You to myself

  (a jealous hoarder am I)

  but You are infinite

  and I cannot consume You.

I want to rest and I want to flee —

  but You say

  yoke: easy

  burden: light.

I want to wear out my shoes looking for You

  finding You

  following You.

And when You bloom through Your word

  (again!)

  (again!)

  (again!)

I will gladly exhaust myself

gathering more and more of You

into my already-bursting arms.