We are celebrating empty arms and desire, loneliness and longing. We are joining together to uplift unfulfillment and to shake empty hands. We are only groans, lighting candles, and holding our breath.
Praying, don't flicker out.
There is only a promise, a thin slip of a promise that may or may not have been God, but good God, we are running with it because it's all we've got, though we're not sure which direction to face.
And we are practising our patience in the dark, mostly in the dark because here, the light is still bobbing in the distance, possibly only a star. And we are doing our best to become empty. Here, what is wanted is longing.
Welcome to the waiting.
Welcome to a pregnant hope.