Abram.

Infatuated with the idea of Him, like a girl going on a date.

There’s no one here just now,
not in this moment, not in this room.

But

oh

how He is.

Clinging to that notion
with hopeful anticipation
that He will be as said,
And the aged man sets out.

Away from all he knows,
And carting along all he owns,
he leaves all things familiar
setting face toward the unknown.

The journey is steady and the
Divine does not visit
as often as a man might hope.

There are dark nights, to be sure, in more sense than one;
Without the glow of home in this life on the road.
Nights in which his old mind ticks along wondering
if
his awake is a dream and
his journal an illusion.

There are no writings to remind him,
no covenant to assure.

Only his memories of visitation.
Only the command to go.

And to keep going.

And to go some more.

He presses against the darkness and chases the ever-eluding horizon.

And pushing one step to chase the next is

the thought that his Beloved

once visited and is

calling him to

come.

{For a more detailed account of Abram, see Genesis 12 and following}