Since childhood, I’ve searched for You – amid rows of tall pine trees,
at the edge of vast oceans, near placid lakes,
at the foot of thousand-foot-high waterfalls,
even beside indoor fountains.
I’ve heard of people finding You on mountaintops or hidden in caves.
At night, You are the Light of the moon and stars. Why do You remain elusive?
Why do I sense I found You some other time? I have visions of nuns, monastic cells –
myself in the holy habit. Are they memories of the past, or merely wishful fantasies?
Is the sense of peace I feel real or imagined?
I know You dwell inside, not out there somewhere –
but why, my Beloved, do You hide?