Long ago, I whispered, a prayer held close and dear: "Lord, grant me a Christian heart, gentle, kind, sincere. Not a pastor's son, if it may be spared, Yet if You will, let it be, a soul divinely prepared. A spirit quiet, humble, and true, The one You ordain for me to know, in all I do." Through years it lingered, in shadow and in light, A prayer wrapped in hope, silent through day and night.
Have you ever prayed with eyes gently closed, then opened them to find the world reposed? Some call it chance, some whisper fate, I call it God's own perfectly timed date. That morning, the chapel lay hushed and still, The prayer was soft, yet the music could thrill.
A violin weaved like dawn's tender light, Each note a star piercing the folds of night.
My chest constricted, my spirit held in thrall, As though creation bowed to God's quiet call. Mine eyes pursued the strain, entranced, unbound, Until Luke appeared, by Providence profound.
A radiance descended, unveiling all I could see, This fleeting hour ordained by divinity. My heart leapt sudden, my breath stole away, as if heaven itself had lent life to the day.
'Twas in that moment my heart yielded, letting him near.
A quiet surrender, trembling within. I had glimpsed him before Luke, serene, reserved, The one by the band, his violin carefully preserved.
We dancers had finished our tambourine reverie, And as the service waned, the pastor bade all rise. The lights dimmed softly, a hush cloaking the night, while singers hummed and the band murmured gentle sighs.
Then—ah, the violin—so tender, so clear, Its notes wove through the air, stirring something near. A silent pull tugged at the depths of my soul, And, unbidden, my gaze followed its subtle toll.
It called to me softly, a whisper, a flame, A melody tracing the contours of my name.
My gaze alighted upon him—Luke, serene and rapt, As though the cosmos itself had quietly collapsed. He played with eyes shuttered, each bow-stroke a benediction, A delicate oblation, trembling with silent conviction.
My heart thundered fiercely, a wild refrain, "Lord… why does this stir? Such sweet, sharp pain?" The world slowed down, as if his Hand had stilled each clamor, leaving only what was filled.
I could do naught but behold, my chest constricted, My heart convulsing, each throb unpredicted "Lord… what alchemy is this?" I murmured within, as if the mundane world had muted, letting the sacred begin.
I could not avert my sight, nor yearned to depart, The sanctuary held its breath, and the music enthralled my heart. Each note a scintilla, each pause a cryptic sign, A melody woven with intention, as if heaven's hand designed.
When the prayer waned and we sank into our seats, I remained adrift, lost in thought's quiet retreats.
"Why does my heart convulse with such clandestine fire?" I mused,
Though the service had ended, my senses remained transfused.
Even as we traversed backstage, costumes exchanged with faint laughter, A clandestine tempest raged within, chasing ever after. We smiled, we jested, yet beneath the veil of routine, A quiet maelstrom stirred where none had seen.
And when at last we departed the hallowed nave, The echo of that storm lingered, subtle yet grave.
That night, I could not exorcise him from my mind, A phantom of thought, unbidden, yet unkind. When I returned home, the echoes lingered still, so I opened the window of the world, and bent to will.
There, upon the radiant frame, his name alight, And there he smiled, a quiet vision of delight.
And for a fleeting moment, the world felt ethereal, light. My finger hovered, unsure, over the silent request I could not yet write, A fragile token of longing, suspended between hope and restraint. My friends had counseled patience, bidding me to wait. That perhaps the first step should come from him, ordained by fate.
So I did not send it—not yet—my heart remained true, Instead I knelt in the hush, my whispered prayers imbued. I closed my eyes, seeking the solace of sleep, Yet my dreams, mischievous, this tender moment chose to keep.
I saw him there, poised so near, each note drew me tight, His bow a whisper of prayer, weaving through the light. When morning broke, my chest felt airy, yet my mind roared loud, Haunted by the dream, vivid, tender, unbowed.
I whispered again, in the quiet of night,
"Lord… what meaning lies in this strange, trembling sight? Why does he linger where only my slumber convenes, threading through shadows, through secret, unseen scenes?"
Each Sunday I saw him, it seized me once more, That fevered heartbeat, that rush I could not ignore. Yet I stayed silent, my longing restrained, too fearful of loss, too fragile, too pained. Too sure of my flaws, too timid to show, Too certain the world would not let this heart grow.
So I resolved to cloak these stirrings, silent and confined, A secret tempest, hidden deep within my mind. One afternoon, my friend spoke of a crush, her dance partner near,
And how the steps between them brought neither joy nor cheer.
I laughed, and teased with a playful, fleeting art:
"Why scorn your crush as a partner? Could it be Luke owns your heart?"
She rolled her eyes, dismissing my jest with a laugh so free,
"Do not be absurd—he's older, not the type for me."
When she said he's older, my curiosity sparked anew,
I asked with quiet wonder, "How old is he?"
She smiled, then answered, calm as dawn's first light:
"Twenty-three," she said, and the words felt strangely bright.
When I learned his age, my world began to fray, For he was older, far beyond my humble sway. A thought then struck, cold as the midnight sea: He'd never glance at one as small as me. And so, within my heart, a shadow grew, a quiet sorrow, tender and true.
And so I vowed to let my feelings die, To crush the tender ache, to cease the sigh. I sought a way to sever every thread, to cast away the love that filled my head. Yet in my chest, the pain refused to part, For every breath still bore his name in my heart.
One afternoon, while we prepared for the church's grand affair, I stood with friends, our hearts alight with prayer. Then Luke appeared, as if from heaven's quiet gate, To watch our gathering, and ponder its fate.
He asked what purpose graced our humble scene, And my dear friend replied, with a voice serene. She spoke of Luke, as if he were a distant star, And in that mention, my heart ached from afar.
A fleeting chance before me, slender as a thread of gold, To lose my heart from love that I could not hold. I touched his shoulder, trembling, with courage faint yet true, And whispered soft, "My friend desires thee" then withdrew.
She laughed, then said, "Nay—do not believe,'Twas but a jest, a tease for you to grieve."
I saw Luke silent, no answer did he give, He nodded once, then left like a ghost, to live. And in that hush, a trembling dread took hold, A sudden fear, as if my heart grew cold. For in his quiet leave, my hope did die, and I was left alone, with a silent cry.
That night, beneath my bed's dim, restless light, His face returned an echo in the night. I rose, and pinched my cheek, to prove I breathed, Then murmured, "Hast thou not been loose, relieved?" Yet memories of him would not depart, His silent leave, the ache within my heart.
I longed to beg forgiveness, to atone, but feared the truth would call him back alone. So I restrained my tongue, and bore the strain, For I had sworn to cleanse my heart of pain.
But forget him I could not; my mind did revolt, And I traced his footsteps through the heavens' vault. Through glowing screens I followed, fevered and bold, adding, subscribing, chasing warmth I could not hold.
My hand grew restless, like a wayward sprite, And still I forced my way into his sight. I pressed "Add" again, though my heart did quake, To trespass on a world I dared not take.
Then lo, the screen did glow he accepted me there, And my soul took flight, like fire through the air.
That night I knelt in hush, within my room's dark veil, And whispered prayers into the quiet, trembling pale:
"O Lord, why doth my heart ignite with fervent flame? Why him, whose name alone hath set my soul aflame? Why must I pine for one beyond my humble sphere, A distant star, a light I cannot draw near? Why must my spirit, like a moth, to him be drawn, When I am but a shadow, lost at break of dawn?"
After my prayers, I drifted into restless sleep, Yet in the shadowed hush, his face did softly creep. Once more I dreamed him, bow tracing shadows of light, Notes like whispered psalms, threading the edge of night.
At dawn I woke, sat up, my heart a fluttering snare, I prayed in trembling whispers, casting all to prayer. I knelt, my spirit quaking, stripped and bare, And begged my Lord once more this question of despair:
"O Lord, why doth this fervent fire within me rise? Why doth my soul still ache, though I have prayed and tried? Why him, whose steps are carved in heavens far above, While I remain in shadows, yearning for his love?"
Not with my true name no, I dared not appear, but donned a shadowed mask, a veil of fear. Through hidden screens, I watched him from afar, a trembling soul, half-starved of hope's bright star.
Yet at first light, my courage found its voice, And I resolved to speak, though hearts might choose To spurn my truth, to turn and walk away For I would rather speak than silent stay.
Though he may scorn, though he may never care, I'd cast my secret forth, and lay my soul bare.
At last I spoke, my heart in trembling woe, And laid my soul before him, bare and slow. "I cannot feign," I whispered, voice so frail, "For in my core thy name doth ever sail. A quiet worship, hidden, pure, and deep A longing that doth rob my sleep."
I owned the truth I'd kept in silent night, And gave my heart to him, though dim my light. For if he spurned me, I would still be free Yet still I trembled, praying he'd see me.
Though I had spoken, poured my heart in honest plea, a part of me still whispered,
"Is this truly free?"
For though my words were said, they felt as yet incomplete, as if my soul still waited for his gaze to meet. I stood in quiet hush, my breath held tight in fear, Awaiting that one glance one sign that he could hear.
For though my confession flew, like a bird into the air, I waited, trembling still, to see if he would care.
Then silence fell, my words untouched by light, And days unspooled like shadows into night. My mind grew restless, torn by hope and dread, a bitter wish to unwrite what I had said.
I thought to erase the words I'd bared to him, to wipe my confession clean, and let my hope grow dim. But just as I was poised to banish all I'd said, a reply appeared then froze me, filled with dread.
I stood there, stunned, as silence seized my mind, For in that moment, no feeling could I find.A thousand thoughts did clash, yet none were clear, And in my chest, a strange and trembling fear.
In his reply, I sought no hope, no sign, For I believed it would confirm my heart's decline. I thought at last my mind would find its rest, And in the silence, peace would fill my chest.
But peace was fleeting, for order gave way, The calm shattered quickly; all became gray.
Yet Luke inquired who had confessed his name, And I, too weak, could not step into the flame. For in my mind his answer sealed my heart's defeat: A confirmation that my love was incomplete.
But then he asked, and my breath did catch in fear, For he assumed my friend was the one who drew him near.
Though she held no fondness, no affection in her gaze, I trembled at the thought that Luke might seek her ways. And so my heart grew heavy, in silent, aching dread that he might turn to her, and leave my love unsaid.
I let all pass, and chose to veil my lips in stillness, As though silence might bestow some holy stillness. Yet the calm I sought proved but a shallow guise, For in the quiet, my unrest did but rise.
The peace I dreamed of was not mine to hold, For silence, too, can be a tempest, cold.
My dread came true he knew my name, my part, And shame rose swiftly, a fire within my heart. I wished the earth would open, swallow me whole,To hide the ruin of my unveiled soul.
No flight remained, no falsehood could I weave, For my confession stood, and I could not leave. Yet in that truth, a strange stillness drew near, For once revealed, the secret lost its fear. And though my heart did quake with trembling dread, I felt a faint peace settle in my head.
I made no sign, nor sought to draw him near, And for that very distance, I give sincere thanks. For had our souls been closer, fate might have conspired to kindle hopes within me, hopes that I desired.
Thus I kept my silence, and my longing sealed, Grateful for the gulf that spared me from what I might have healed.
Knowing what silence once had done, My heart breathed free, though nothing had begun. Later, my friend recounted, mildly vexed, how Luke once asked to speak, his motives guessed.
She spoke in jest, I listened, still, and smiled for silence, too, can fill a truth unspoken, soft and true. That speaks more plainly than words do.
As my friend recounted all, my heart grew faint, For I perceived in Luke a subtle, hidden taint A fondness, perhaps, that toward her did lean, A gentle pull, unseen, yet keen.
Yet I felt no malice in that thought's embrace, For she was fair and wise, with charm and grace. Who could not be beguiled by such a mind? Who would not be enchanted, gentle and kind?
I thought that by bestowing love on both the one I cherished, and my friend beside my heart might find release, and in such balance, cease to pine. Yet fate proved otherwise, and my resolve did fail, For weeks passed on, and still my yearning did prevail.
One morning, fair as dawn's own gilded hue, We danced with tambourines, our spirits bright and new. But then I saw him—Luke—again, upon the pulpit's height, His voice a solemn thunder, his presence stealing light.
I strove to avert my gaze, to feign indifference and be free, Yet in that moment, my heart betrayed me.
As we were led to sit, he seized the guitar and sang, And I, betraying my own heart, could not quell its pang. I tried to look away, to feign indifference and be free, Yet found myself still watching, drawn like a silent plea.
His fingers strummed, his voice did weave a spell so sweet, And in that moment, my heart skipped beats I could not beat.
I turned my gaze elsewhere, to hide what I had seen, But still my soul grew tender at the sight of him serene. For though I sought to hide it, I could not deny the thrill: A gentle, foolish flutter, that lingered lingering still.
I could not help but smile, though I would not confess, and my friends, quick to notice, teased me with jest. Their laughter danced around me, light as morning air, Yet in my heart, a secret joy was buried there.
A flush of relief swept through my hidden core, Yet a quiet ache lingered I could not ignore. I laughed with the jest, concealing the fire inside, A secret longing, untamed, that would not subside.
Days drifted by, and still his voice did softly call, My name from Luke's lips, like music in the hall. Yet I feigned deafness, feigned a careless air, For I feared his nearness would ensnare me there.
I sought to keep him distant, to guard my heart's own door, Lest every kindly gesture mean something more. For in each word he spoke, each glance he dared to send, My hope would stir again, and I would lose my end.
I kept my distance, wary, silent, restrained, Lest closeness awaken the longing I feigned. Each glance from afar, each accidental near, stirred whispers of hope I dared not hear