The thought of being mortal hurts the most. The thought of being alone in the universe is unbearable. The thought that love will sooner or later come to an end and disappear brings us closer to death than anything else. What can we do to stop time from passing so ruthlessly fast? Tell us what to do.
I tried to forget about my mortality through love. But it made me a slave to thoughts of you and took away my freedom. Freedom stands above everything else. And I want to be free. To be close to you.
I tried to find oblivion in the beauty around me. But, painfully, I discovered that beauty too is mortal. We become accustomed to beauty, and it no longer seems so beautiful. The seasons are born and die. The sun rises and sets. Your smile is no longer mine alone. My heart is too small to bear so many losses—to be born again with every sunrise, with every season, and to hope for your smile, meant only for me. To be close to you.
I tried to find oblivion in physical pleasures. But I exhausted my body with lies and pretence, with the illusion of the moment and the pain of creation. Yet I endured it all. To be close to you.
I tried to find oblivion in knowledge. I accumulated wisdom relentlessly until I almost forgot about you and imagined that I stood above everything and everyone. Knowledge made me selfish and self-sufficient. But I needed your love. I needed the warmth of your smile. To be close to you.
I tried to find oblivion in money. But the worm of complacency grew within me with every passing day, threatening to destroy me. Then I lost everything. I was left naked in my loneliness, yet rich in the joy of losing everything. To be close to you.
I tried to find oblivion in pride. I thought I should be proud simply because I existed. But my pride built a wall between you and me. I was ready to cross deserts on foot and beg you to let me love you again. To be close to you.
I tried to lock away my heart, to protect my soul, not to give my body away freely, to punish you for all the trials I had been subjected to. But every time you gave me another reason not to give up, but to continue. Every time you told me that I was not alone in my suffering, that your almighty spirit was everywhere, transforming space and time for me.
I tried to find you in every reflection of my body and my spirit. And I found you there—as immense potential, pure and innocent, free from sin and filled with your forgiveness. Every reflection of me, both in body and in spirit, came closer and closer to you, and you forgave the original sin because it was faith that moved you to forgive us. And I kept drawing closer to you.
I tried to find you under different names. But that only brought greater confusion and sadness. Because with every new name, you remained the same—unique and infinite. Fascinated by outward forms, I imagined that only one name could truly belong to you. But that meant trying to contain your divine and infinite nature within something small, while you were the Creator of infinity itself. And you smiled at my helpless blindness.
I found you only after erasing every human name and leaving an empty place in my heart, which you filled with infinite diversity. I stopped searching for a name for you, and instead of comforting my soul, I found joy even in suffering. To be close to you.
Then I realised that life without you does not exist. Wherever life beats, you are there—creating, sustaining and giving life. I needed you.
I need to find you in the life around me so that I can face the days ahead with courage. I need to find you in the simple facts and ordinary wonders that, through my limited vision, seem to border on magic and divine splendour that only you are capable of creating.
I need to find you in the warmth and light of the sun's rays that welcome my body each morning. And in the evening, my soul becomes the home of the moon's quiet promise of renewal and eternal cycles.
You are the breath without which we cannot live. You are the honeybee that faithfully labours to make honey so that we may taste the sweetness of life. You are the butterfly born after a long night in which something dies so that something free may be born. You are the bird that spreads its wings and flies freely, untouched by the malice and prejudice of everyday life.
You are everything I see, everything I feel, everything I think and everything I sense. You become all these things to tell me that I, too, can become anything—as long as I long to be close to you.
Only through you can I attain immortality and the promise of eternal mercy.
Only through you can I become everything.
(Elena S. Lyubenova)
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