Lent — day thrity-four

I find myself always reaching
to turn the next page.
These words in front of me
were meant to be taken in
with small breaths. They
were meant to be savored
and held. And I do hold them,
but I continually read on;
they make me hungry
and tell me who I am,
but they tell me
with a general feeling in my gut
and a waving golden thing
somewhere just around the bend
somewhere just at the top of that hill.
I’m left chasing the illusive.
It’s never enough.
God himself is never enough –
as soon as he is, he is more,
the hunger is more.
the chase goes on,
I cannot stop,
because he cannot stop.
runs at me,
runs to me
runs to find
runs to hide
someday, we’ll be caught.
still, he never let me go.


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