What You Seek

You go out looking
for what has already found you.

You call it longing.
It is not only yours.

Something in you leans forward.
Something answers.

You think the distance is real.
It is not that.

You listen for a voice.
It is the listening.

You chase what shines
and grow tired of it.
Still you do not stop.

Sit down.

The thing you have been walking toward
is not ahead.

It has been standing
where you turned away.

This ache you carry
is not a mistake.

It is the shape
of what you are able to receive.

You try to fill it.
You try to quiet it.

It waits.

Not impatient.
Not gone.

Closer than your next thought.

You do not need to go farther.

Only to stop
leaving.