The Not-Yet-Perfect Place

The golden field in which I dwell –

To which I was led by a Gift –

Is but a small reflection of what is to come.

It is imperfect, but a promise of perfection.

The trees seem real and the creatures alive,

But to what purpose are they here?
Why must I dwell in this place when

There is a land much greater than this

Just beyond my reach?

And why is it that sometimes I feel lonely in this place

When sometimes I feel fulfilled by one touch

Of my love, my creator.

And why, when I do feel lonely, do I long

To leave this place?

But the gentle steps around me

Are not to be ignored

No matter how much I try.
How is it that they hold me up, as I hold them up?
Together we talk of this place to which we were led

And learn to love it

And its imperfections.

And oft we are lead to share the Gift

So that more can gather here with us.

And so we dream here together

Of the perfect form of this creation.

Though we may feel alone, it only takes

A simple touch from the Creator

And His creations

To make the stay here –

The wait here –

A little more enjoyable.