Waiting For Faith

I want to believe. I’m desperate to. I need to believe. I need it like a child yearning for approval. But I collapse back down, in failure.

And then something within me moves, something deep down.
It stirs.
Is it the soul remembering the time when all of mankind stood before Him? He tells us that we will forget Him and we declared that we never would. He tells us that we will deny His existence and we promise we never would.
Is that the memory that is stirring, from deep down within me?

It’s the soul that remembers, and it’s the human mind that forgets.
It’s the soul that bridges the gap between us and Him, and it’s the world that leaves an empty space, a void into which we fall.
It’s the soul that yearns for its nourishment, and it’s me who starves it.
It’s me.
But its there.
Faith.
Its there in all its glorified existence.
It’s there. Luminously white, as pure as newly fallen snow. I grab out at it but seems to escape. I storm towards it with open arms time, after time, after time, and every time I stop it seems further away.
And so I collapse, in failure.
And wait for faith.
To come to me.