Wishes on the wind

I sit in my apartment, lingering after my yoga session. My body feels strong in its soreness. I spent the day floating down the Sunrise River with [spontaneous!] friends; later, laughing over intertube mishaps and visiting over margaritas and burgers.

My windows are thrown open so the breeze washes over me in the lavender-scented candlelight. Such joy for me in these short summer months. But as I lay in my softly-lit room, as always, my joy is tinged by sorrow. I read so much in my books, and hear so much within my religion, about how it ought to be enough, ought to be all I need, to share these pure and peaceful moments with God.

I know this world and these moments are given by Him. I am grateful for a soul that finds sheer joy in simple things like the rustle of leaves and the caress of wind. There are many times I am grateful for my solitude. But I can't stop yearning for a human soul, a companion who might be just as content to lie here with me and listen to the crickets. Someone who might find similar joy in this sacred evening. Someone who might find joy in my company, in any moment.

But tonight, as in most nights before, I don't have this. Tonight, as in every night before, I will pray for this. I will believe the prayer is heard, although I will feel it futile. Then I will pray over the rest of the people I love, people whose prayers I would be so happy to see answered. People whom I tend to believe must deserve these things more, or have greater faith, or have a better track record than I in His eyes. Then I'll pray that I find my Purpose as a single, even though that's not my heart's desire. I'll pray that it be enough to feel His presence on nights like these.

I'll pray that someday, I won't have this to write about anymore.