For me, a deep connection exists between love and prayer. The following poem sheds light on the futility of love’s pursuit aside from God’s invitation to ‘come,’ and tells a parallel story of grace found in prayer’s intimate union.

I thought love a feeling,
But somewhere in time
It scurried away,
So I sought the grind.
I thought love a starlit,
Sublime, surreal, mystery there,
Until like vapor it vanished,
In a selfish prayer.
I thought love a wistful kiss
In shroud, garland and lace,
Splendid under the stars,
Until I found disgrace.
I thought love a savor
Relished, seen and plied
Longing for more, filled beyond
All wonder…until it died.
I thought love an honored
Furtive grace to hold between
Heaven and earth, a white dove,
Until so brilliant, it vanished
Beyond my sight above.
I thought…but then who can tell
What love’s mystery has foretold;
The moving wheels of grace
Turn steady when we grow old;
And stop upon the way,
To hold joy and laughter there;
And a silent ancient thing
Called love, becomes prayer.