Wait

There is a stream of water running through the cold stones on the edge of the mountain. Walking past those damp rocks, I carefully watch my steps as I pass each stone being grazed with water. The sound of the wind blew fiercely in the trees and I stayed nearby the stream to reassure no sign of calamity.
Continuing my walk past the streams I approach a tiny patch of green grass with the sun dimming down ever so brightly. I laid my body down to stare at those emerald green leaves I saw that rainy day. Each leaf had its own unique oval shape with the bright color reflecting off the sun.
I laid there allowing the wind to wrap my body and I began to wonder when that day will arrive, where is the day where I discover what so many have found and hundreds have spent writing endless amounts of poetry and songs to describe the meeting of that day. What does it feel like to have a person in your life like a guardian angle willing to stand by your side and say, "I am here for you." That moment when your heart drops from having a bad day or even bad dream and that person runs to catch you in your hurt in an attempt to repair it. What is it like?
The sun continues to run its beams through each leave and hovering each tree to blanket them with warmth. I feel a touch of warmth on my right cheek as I turned my head to face a bush nearby that had a blossomed flower. Its petals were so fragile yet its attraction was a deep piercing of color in my pupils.
I have often wondered how people in this have so easily found that sensation of love where there can be no end to it because that person has promised you forever. It is hard to vision that people like that truly exist. Can it be that there are those out there who have the sensational desire to be matched with one and have their souls joined and never be broken. Rest assuredly the storms do come but their ground is solid like a rock not built on sand. Can one truly find that bond in another human being without the fear of falling without a catcher?

It was guilt to want to close my eyes for not having the sight to see God's beautiful work is almost a crime, a blasphemy to hide one's eyes from such a creation at work. Though I had no words and few breaths to take in what my soul captured that day in that walk. I had to ask myself, "Am I feeling a tiny glimpse of that love that one has found?" "Is it as peaceful as it is now that I lay here in this tranquil trace of awe?"

This must be what it is like. But will I find it in another?