Loneliness

Loneliness
It might as well have been an earthquake,
The thunderous noise of a pin dropped in the silence somewhere between two beats of my heart,
The impact of all of the noise from every wandering 'what if' I've been wondering,
It's deafening.
Burdensome; crippling.
Like the fine point of a pick axe driving hard on the nerve responsible for telling the body that
This
Is
Loneliness.
Nothing could prepare me for the paralyzing reality; my limbs sag heavily and gravity conquers, pulling me to my knees in submission.
But who can fight gravity when dealing with the gravity of such a burden.
Whole minutes spent staring into nothing, turn into half hours and hours...unmoved.
Unmovable really
The body reacts physically to the metaphysical reality playing itself out on the foreground of my mind.
Millions of faces cross my mind and not one, even the ones I can make up on my own, seem to fit.
What a hopeless endeavor.
Then the unthinkable thought gets me thinking...
The one. Perfect. Exceeding my expectations.
And if he exceeds, then how could I even fathom?
My brain can't create what exceeds its capacity to do so.
In all the things I've seen, I derive all the things I know and none of the things I know are meant to be the one I love because the one I love I have not yet known because I have not yet seen.
He's unimaginable for we are capable only of recreating; not creating.
I cannot create or imagine someone who's never existed to me; this is where the void in my imagination exists.
This is the heart of my loneliness.
It's the area of my creative capacity that remains untouched because the information to recreate and express is without the material to do so.
He's the intangible. The occupant of that space. The tenant if you will... and he will be troublesome.
Messy. Thieving. He will steal the other areas of my mind until he has seized my every thought and holds my mind captive.
For my mind, for my sanity, I'll bargain my heart and through his cunning he will seize that as well; leaving me entirely his.
But for now he is the vacancy.
My mind is a house and he is the prospective tenant.
How lonely and quiet and empty that house will be until his arrival.
A whole house, mind you... but missing the one piece that turns a house into a home.
Occupancy.
And so I become a jigsaw piece.
I wonder how a puzzle piece wonders.
Puzzle pieces are in fact considered whole pieces, no? And yet also considered pieces of something else.
That's me, I know myself only as the whole piece and yet I can't see the big picture that I fit into knowing full well one exists.
I am whole and yet not yet a part of the whole.
Where do I fit and how do I fit?
More importantly, what fits to me.
To be whole as one piece is one thing but to be a part of the whole means you're missing something that would otherwise connect you to the whole.
That's what love is.
Love is the piece of you in someone else that connects you to God's greater picture for your life.
Think about that; love turns a house into a home; emptiness into fulfillment.
Love is the creativity yet to be discovered. And until love is love...
Love
Is
Loneliness.