I sit in the small dark room of my life and I am looking for you so I can see you. I look for you every time I am in trouble. I look for you every time I am lonely and sad. Forgive me for forgetting to look for you when I am happy. But these are short moments in which I forget about myself and then the happiness comes by itself. Like an uninvited light that suddenly invades through the window of the small dark room of my life. It illuminates all corners, and for a moment I forget how long I have gone, I forget about the pain of my eternal path.
In the small dark room of my life there are several corners in which I always hit myself when the fate is not generous to me. The floor is old and scratched and the paint has long been gone. Every time the darkness drives out the happiness from my small room, I fall on the floor to pray, and the paint goes away with every pain I have. You see how much pain this room has had. And my knees are coloured already.
The ceiling of my room is high and almost unreachable. Every time I want to achieve something I have to jump high, high to reach it. The ceiling is ruthless and distant as unachievable dream. Exactly how your love is. But I do not stop jumping and trying to reach the height of my own dreams.
A thick curtain through which even the light from the window does not go through surrounds one of the corners of the small dark room of my life. There I go when the burden of my body is so great and overwhelming that I have to weep for it. There, behind the curtain, I take its physical suffering and I cry about our lives. There the heart of my body rises for a new life again. Because after each fall there is rising. There, behind the curtain, I cry for the fate of the human beings born in grief and pain, and the pain pursues them throughout their lives. The pain from the end of the body, the pain from the end of love. Behind the curtain, I spend intimate moments of merging with the universe, which absorbs all the tears it sends to me as a process of conscious suffering. After every suffering comes a change. And no real change comes when you are happy. This is probably unfair, but consistent law of the universe for human life. In this corner I cry about the inability to get your love.
The other corner of the small room of my life is a small altar in which I go to pray each time I lose the connection with the great cosmic energy. There I spend intimate moments in search of the point and the meaning of my little, fragile and mortal human body. After every sincere prayer to my cosmic god, I feel like I am born again. Born in faith and hope. A hope that someday I will fully and unconditionally receive your love.
The little dark room of my life has a small window. Even though it is small, it is enough to pass the necessary amount of light. Without this light my life would be without a meaning and my body would be without a life. Light is my connection with you, with the love that comes from you. Your love is what makes me to love life, to love it and to believe in it.
This small room, surrounded by four walls, four corners, an old gray floor where the colors have long gone, and a tall, unreachable ceiling that connects me to the starry horizon, this small room is my life.
I am like a beggar who does not know how to deserve your love. Whatever I do is still not right. Whatever I do is totally inadequate. Tell me what you want me to do to get your love. I am like a beggar who is content with a little, with a few crumbs love. Sometimes some crumbs of love are the right dose of love that I need to keep my heart free from cold. And you are so generous that you give me these few crumbs in the form of a distant smile or a mere thought.
But I beg you, do not torture me with your love. If you really love me, give me all your love all at once and forever, like a large portion of fried potatoes that can keep me from being hungry.
And you look like a greedy scrooge, who gives me a very little and at an inappropriate time. But I beg you, do not torture me with your love.
You say that I am everything for you, your whole world, that I am even the star cosmos that illuminates your dreams at night. But you keep your love and you measure it in drops. And these drops are totally inadequate, because I am dying of thirst, a thirst you cannot quench.
You say I am your reason for you to exist. That without me you would not make sense or meaning. Then do not torture me with your love. Send me your love in generous quantities. Send me your love now and at this hour, because today I need it. Give me your love because I am your reason for you to exist.
I am like a monk who has lived for a long time in solitude and has forgotten what is to love with the body. As a monk who lived lonely among many people, people with greedy hearts, cruel hearts from which he has learned to love God, but not people. Do not torture me, show me your love. Make me feel with my heart that has forgotten what it is to feel with my body. Give me your love now and today, because tomorrow I may not exist.
I am like an unbeliever who needs a proof to dispel his doubts. Send me your love, prove me that you exist.
You say I have to believe you and that is enough for love to come to me. But you are great and powerful, and I am small and lonely in the ocean of human hearts.
You say I have to go out and go hunting for love. Do you want to tell me I have to sell my body to make someone love me? Are you not too cruel by consciously depriving me of your love, teaching me patience and faith. But I do not want lessons. I want your love at all times of the day. Do I want so much?
When I wake up in the morning to have someone to kiss me with the sunrise. I want someone to love me then to have a reason to start my day. To have someone to share my new day with.
When I fall and it is hard, when the darkness descends above me, then I still need love. I need someone, whose tenderness and passion will make me believe that there is light in the darkness. Send me this love, I will keep my window open. Let the light and the hope for tomorrow come through this window.
You are like a lover who is only used to take stuff from me. You take everything from me, my strength, energy, tenderness, and I remain empty, empty of love. You are like a cruel lover who causes me deliberate suffering to prove to me his superiority. You want to see my tears as proof of my love. But you are a jealous lover who stifles my soul, destroys my heart, who is ready to take my life to own me fully and completely.
Do not torture me with tests of my faith and deliberately sent sufferings to see how loyal I am to you. Because I am faithful to myself, and it is not me who has to prove to you my love, but you to me your superiority.
You would not have existed without me. You without me would lose meaning. You say that you are the love and that through you I have to learn how to love. Because love is life and a continuation of the life.
But why are you sometimes a love that destroys my soul? Love that obsesses and makes me a slave to my longings and love sufferings.
Why sometimes are you a love that has no courage to fight for itself and gradually die locked lonely in its heart. Don’t you hear how it is screaming for help? Don’t you hear how it begs you to save it, to find meaning in its pain and sorrow.
I do not want easy love. Love to which I can get used to quickly. Do not give me easy love, because I will remember it quickly and then I will seek new love because I will like to conquer and to leave. Give me hard love, love impossible, passionate, devastating and obsessive. A love that will rush me up like a storm and after which I will not be the same because I will understand the divine meaning of human love. The divine meaning of human love is to make us big, to find the way after the end of now and here. The path that will connect us with the Creator.
I spend days and nights in my little room. My heart beats like a bell sounding musically in my little room. And it is all waiting and longing, and faith. And divine music through which you talk to me.
You remain cool, distant and unreachable. But sometimes in short moments, I manage to feel your presence. Only the spring wind that runs through the window of my little room tells me that there is hope and that your love is travelling to me. Your love is already here, it is the reason for me to exist. It is the hope that after the end I will meet you again.
Can you hear me, God?
(Elena S. Lyubenova)