The dog on the bank
calls for its master
whining as if
its master could hear.
For a while satisfied
waiting by the water,
it tests the shallows
once, twice, even more,
each time returning to shore.
Its keening reaches
far across the water.
If the master could hear,
would he do as he did before?
Leave the dog to wait and wonder
what he did to be so lonely?
Why he roams this empty shore?
What it takes to fill this yearning?
What it is he’s yearning for?
What it is that begs for more?
If the master comes again,
leaves again, as before,
would there be a reason
to wonder and whine anymore,
or would it be just like before?
Oh, lonely dog,
pining and whining,
calls to the void, and
wishing for what never was
shows you never knew
what the Master brought,
nor what was left behind.
What the Master meant
never left at all.
The calling in your mind
across the water says:
Here I am and always was,
and shall always ever be.
No longer, dog, need you wonder
what you mean to Me.
No longer need you wander
along an empty shore.
Turn inward to that voice,
and stop this manic pacing—
This was not My gift to you.
I brought you love
you had not known: no reason
to wonder and whine anymore,
or did I leave you just wanting more?
*****
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