He would look at me, patiently, as I would go through the litany of my daily tribulations.
I would look back at him.
As I ritually listed the usual hardhips I went through, I hoped he would offer a solution that would stop them all, putting an end to my torments, days and nights alike.
In reality, what his eyes told me underneath, I could not hear.
He would allow it to be told anyway, confident in the timelessness of his message.
-‘You have not let yourself be found by true joy yet. It will open your eyes to its presence and your tears will end.
For now, I can hear you, and I’m waiting for you.’
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