Why do you run from me? Why do I hide from you? Why do we hardly know each other?

My reservoir for you must be so small…or the exit point so tight.

Why must I work so hard to muster you up? Why aren’t you smothered all over the memory of my mental muscles? Why don’t you overflow out of me like so many others I see who would sooner shrivel up and die than not extend you to another? Why do I often get slapped awake by the empathy of others, trying to resuscitate you in my life?

I want more of you. I want to find the drops inside of me and shake them up so they froth and overflow into everything I do. I want to give the excess of you up to others.

I want to stop thinking of myself. I want to stop seeing myself as my own and others’ savior. I want to just start being. I want to stop trying to pull peoeple out of the places. I want to climb down and sit nex tto them.

Being silent. Being present. Being still. Being love…without strings of condition or strings of puppeteering someone to dance for me.

Where do I start? Where are you hiding? How am I missing you?

Where can I find you today?

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