I am nothing without You in my heart,
An untapped void, an unwatered seed,
Finished before the start.
My wholeness is not without You,
An illusion of the mind,
A lie thought to be truth.
I shrink inward without Your water,
Starve without Your daily bread,
Search for the treasure most sought.
I know not whether it be creation,
Or whether it be nurture,
Or if culmination forms the ideation.
For You are the artist of every canvas,
Every distinguishing feature,
The molecules, strokes, stanzas.
As inescapable as the atmosphere,
Yet addictive like no other,
Not a drug, but serenity when You are near.
Still I cry “draw near!” when you never left,
Claim I found You when You weren’t hiding,
Mourning when there is none to be bereft.
Thought I loved something other than you,
But You are in everything,
Thus it was You I pursued.
Though not the ideal of true worship,
The emptiness drew me back,
Hallejuia once again on my tongue’s tip.
Everywhere, everyone, everything, eternal,
Not to be kept; simply shared and known,
This abounding, magnificent kernel.
Ryan Lane 2014