Beneath the tablecloth

There are things we have only in spirit

because they are gone from our senses,

Every sense except that

which speaks to the sacred place within. 

And there, is also the place of longing;

It is the epicenter of the wish for fulfillment.

At the core of our nature, there is a need

to fully touch and be touched in Love.

Time is a magician's trick 

it snatches the table cloth away—

plates and glassware unmoved.

When suddenly more bare,

we see it for what it is, shells of fallen trees,

memories of gathered love once there,

and now gone to time and air.

Longing is the space between our open arms,

It is not empty, but filled with faith;
it is simply…waiting