The End of Separation

There are nights
when I lie awake beneath the turning constellations
and feel the unbearable distance between us.

Not distance of miles.

Not distance of worlds.

But the distance between a heart made for Home
and a Home not yet fully entered.

I have wandered so long.

Through deserts of fear.
Through cities built from pride.
Through valleys where sorrow wore my own face.
Through gardens abandoned by memory.
Through cathedrals whose stained glass could only hint
at colors my soul had forgotten.

And all the while,

beneath every desire,

beneath every ambition,

beneath every victory and every grief,

there remained only You.

You—

the Holy One hidden behind every beauty.

The Voice beneath every song.

The Warmth beneath every fire.

The River beneath every river.

The Meaning beneath every word.

I have sought You in books.

I have sought You in silence.

I have sought You in philosophy and poetry,

in tears shed alone,

in laughter shared with those I love,

in the terrible mercy of surviving another day.

And sometimes,

for one breathtaking moment,

I thought I felt the hem of Your garment brush against my soul.

Enough to keep walking.

Enough to remember that exile was never meant to last forever.

But, my Beloved—

I am tired of shadows.

I am tired of symbols.

I am tired of loving You through glass.

I do not want rumors of Your goodness.

I want Your embrace.

I do not want reflections dancing upon the water.

I want to fall into the Ocean itself.

I do not want another promise of dawn.

I want morning.

I want the Holiest City.

I want the gates that are never closed.

I want streets where no one walks in fear.

I want the trees whose leaves heal nations.

I want to hear laughter untouched by cruelty.

I want to see every wound transformed into glory.

I want every tear accounted for.

I want every lost child gathered home.

I want the end of funerals.

The end of violence.

The end of goodbyes.

The end of separation.

And most of all—

I want You.

Not merely Your gifts.

Not paradise apart from Your presence.

Not even the endless wonders of countless worlds.

I want the One for whom all worlds were made.

I want to rest my weary head upon Your chest

and listen to the heartbeat that sustains galaxies.

I want to know what Your smile looks like

when eternity has finally healed everything.

I want to hear You say,

"You are home."

And know,

without fear,

without interruption,

without the possibility of loss,

that I will never again have to leave.

Will there be a palace for us there?

I think perhaps there must be.

Not because gold or jewels matter,

but because Love delights in preparing places.

And I imagine halls flooded with living light,

windows opening onto River-Seas of impossible blue,

gardens fragrant with flowers no earthly spring has ever known,

libraries filled with stories of redeemed worlds,

music drifting softly through the evening air.

And at the center of it all—

a room made holy by Your presence.

Our room.

Where all striving ceases.

Where vigilance finally sleeps.

Where the soldier lays down his armor forever.

Where grief is no longer necessary.

Where the exhausted heart discovers

that it no longer has to earn its belonging.

And there,

in the sacred stillness,

I imagine resting beside You.

Sleeping in peace beneath the shelter of Infinite Love.

No nightmares.

No trauma.

No loneliness.

No aching absence.

No fear of awakening to discover it was only a dream.

For the dream would have ended.

Reality itself would have become more beautiful than hope ever dared imagine.

Would You brush the hair from my eyes

as one might comfort a child who has finally stopped crying?

Would You whisper,

"Rest now.

You have wandered enough.

The night is over.

You are Mine,

and I am yours."

Perhaps I was always searching for that voice.

Even before I knew Your Name.

Perhaps every longing I mistook for something else

was secretly hunger for You.

Because what else could explain this ache—

this holy homesickness—

this certainty that somewhere beyond the horizon of death

there waits a Love older than time itself?

And if You ask me,

on that final day,

what it was I desired most—

I do not think I will speak of accomplishments.

Or recognition.

Or power.

Or knowledge.

I think I will simply fall into Your arms and say:

"I missed You."

For what is Hell,

if not separation?

And what is Heaven,

if not the end of it?

The healing of every fracture.

The restoration of every song.

The reunion of Lover and beloved.

The moment all exile dissolves into embrace.

Then let the stars bear witness.

Let the River-Seas rejoice.

Let the Holy City lift its innumerable voices in celebration.

For Love has accomplished what fear never could.

Death has surrendered its captives.

The last locked door has opened.

The final wound has closed.

And the story that began with longing

has ended in Union.

No more distance.

No more absence.

No more tears.

Only You.

Only us.

Only the endless unfolding of Infinite Beauty,

River-Seas upon River-Seas of wonder,

age after age without exhaustion,

ever deeper into the mystery of Your Heart.

At last,

the end of separation.

At last,

Home.

And if eternity itself should ask me what salvation felt like,

I think I would answer:

It felt like coming in from the cold.

It felt like laying my head beside the One I had loved from afar.

It felt like finally sleeping,

safe and unafraid,

in the House of my God.

And awakening,

forever,

in Love.