Though depth be a day

Depth is a place you fear and crave at the same time. 

It is a place around which you circumnavigate. 

You are curious. Indeed, it is curious. 

Like a bystander at the zoo, you observe the insides of the cage. 

     And you don't know what you see. 

It is not exactly a scene you flee, 

                    on the

      contrary:

  

         sometimes you are inside it, 

           but you do not even know.

When you seek depth with too much longing and intention, 

by the time you realize where you are, 

fascination no longer has a place.

There is only a louder consciousness of the present reality

 and it is neither warm nor cold.  It makes you numb. 

But emotion ceases to function at the moment of recognition.

Emotion tries on its own strength to dictate direction,

but the aftermath is only the hunger that you alway feel.

When you are away from depth, the arms of your soul press 

                      from the insides of your chest,

                                                           s t r e t ching out with longing,

seeking to find a place to extend itself fully 

                 (because even a soul requires regular circulation)

When you are in the midst of depth, the outstretched fingers of your inner spirit

      try to grasp for it--

but it is intangible and passes like a ghost. 

You don't even know what you are trying to grab. 

Like an airport, depth has a moving walk way that slips under you.

      However, you don't know if it is you or it that is moving away.

All you want is to stand still, be immersed in, and know that you are loved by depth. 

But it is fleeting, like the colors of fall. 

For a brief season, the trees and their foliage radiate a glowing beauty

   inspiring in you a foretaste of eternal breath. 

Such vibrant celebration of pigmentation fills your heart with pulsating delight and

 unspeakable warmth. It is a sight that wraps around your back or around your shoulder like a comforting arm from  someone who loves unconditionally and wants you to know at the moment:

       I've got you, and I get you.

It is as if God Himself were saying, don't you see that I love you, Child?

Of course, depth is more erratic than a season. Fortunately. 

It comes and goes unannounced.

(dare I say like a thief in the night--but surely a gift graciously given).

And seasons can teach us a thing or two about depth 

because it is only through inevitable transformation

that we come to recognize the differences in cyclical ebb and flow:

That we might appreciate depth when found and not hunger constantly for it, 

learning to treasure the surface as it glistens  

with a drop of rain, ray of sun, or a snowflake.