Pursuing Grace

My Desire is here
just beyond my reach
I see it
I sense it
I need it

With each movement toward it, it retreats
Like a wary bird, staying just our of reach
A slow reach toward it,  a slow retreat
Thrusting out my arm, a dash away
A violent rushing grasp falls on empty air

Ever fleeing; never leaving.
Always returning, resting tantalizingly close.
I want it; I need it
A siren song I cannot ignore
Yet every move to take it fails

Stymied, I sit
Watching
Waiting
Wondering
Planning my next move

In my quietude, my Desire moves ever closer
Coming to rest on my open, outstretched hand
My chance!
My hand snaps closed
To hold my treasure with an iron grip.

My Desire, as if a vapor
Slips through my closed fist
Soon to perch again
Just beyond my reach
Ever fleeing; never leaving.

Is this a joke; A cosmic tease?
I cannot have what I most need?
Shouting into the emptiness:
"Why am I made to desire what I cannot have?"
"Who delights in withholding what my soul yearns for?"

My anger drains me
Emptied of will
Bereft of demands
I sit again with hands outstretched
Toward the unreachable, ungraspable

It draws near again
To rest again in my hands
Exhausted and empty, I do nothing
Sitting with my desire in my hands
But not possessed by me

An idea grows in my mind.
Birthed of desperation
Or planted there by what rests in my hands
I draw my hands slowly to my chest
Embracing my desire

It does not flee
Like a snowflake falling on water
It melts into me
It is gone
But it remains

It flows into me
It makes its home in me
Food for my soul
Water of life
I hunger and thirst no more

At peace
No desire to grasp or hold
No need to possess
I am complete
I do not want

Grace
It cannot be taken, only given
It cannot be earned, only received
Becoming empty, I am filled
Surrender is victory