an ode to the women who think they have it all under control, who have it figured out.
to those breathless women who plan their lives JUST SO,
in order to protect themselves against the heart break and torture of the soul, in those wee hours of the night.
when it's dark and they roll over with a sigh.
expecting to find him lying there next to them, but they don't.

an ode to the women of control.
may they be haunted by the thought that they are missing IT.
Missing the great romance of the soul.
missing the adventure.
may they be haunted by the lingering of a whisper behind their left ear....
something that beckons to them of ...
something unplanned,
something spontaneous,
something inconveinent.

an ode to those of predictability.
to the woman of no desire.
she has everything
she needs nothing.
not even love.
for the door of desire has been long shut and currently grows cobwebs.
since the last day it was opened.
dissapointment and rejection had their way.

an ode to the woman of nothing.
but to the women of something,
keep seeking it
and it will be found.

"As Jesus talked about thirst and rest, he brought people to the reality of their own heart"-

"If we allow our mind simply to listen, we perhaps begin to hear our heart speak--faintly, beneath the clatter. It says, "I am so weary, so lost. I have no energy to redeem myself. How I long for rest."
-"The Sacred Romance"