His. Story.

You stare.
Into my soul.

Like no one has ever done.

You stare.

As if seeking every cell in my body.

Every atom in my being.

As if knowing me inside-out was your goal, your mission.

As if studying me was equivalent to vision.

And I feel you accomplishing it every ticking second I’m in your presence.

In your sight.

Surrounded by your humility and might.

No cave could provide enough darkness to hide.

For you’d find me.

Not by a torch or a flame.

Not by my scent or shadow or frame.

But by your knowledge of me.

The way you’ve learned me, the true me, the me that even I don’t see...

Because you’ve sought me for longer than any other in this lifetime.

Years of never giving up.

Never ending. Never stopping. Never altering.

To every response of rejection.

You soldiered on, gritting your teeth, wiping the sweat.

Staring at me as if we’d just met…

You fought with every fibre.

You revealed your heart before I could even feel.

And unlike the one’s before you… you never gave up.

Never considering another route or thinking “Wow, Faye is too much.”

And now, as your fingers intertwine with mine.

Your lips conceal the gentle hint of a smile.

Not satisfaction at a prize or a win on your side.

Not in arrogance or assumption or pride.

You stare. 

You take me in.

You know me better than my own skin.

And I think you smile because you know.

We’ve got a love that’s going to grow.

We’re a team, a small gang.

We’ve got swag and a good thang.

But in the midst of head-back laughter,

that echoes through dusty corridors of endurance.

Is this sense of surety that doesn’t fade.

It’s as if My Creator God is whispering:

For each other you were made.

Because our hearts unite in love for Him.

His motion, breath, touch and gaze.

I feel this is His story,

being written for all our days.