You slip away from the others and into your private chamber.
You fall to your knees at the altar you keep there and gaze at your favorite painted icons, your cherished sacred statues. You feel it coming on, watch in patient fascination as the familiar, mysterious feeling washes over you. It gathers all your fragmented parts and lifts you out of yourself

There is a stirring at your left side. Very close. You turn in slow motion to see what it is. A small angel is standing next to you.
As clear and distinct as your bed, as the window above your bed, as the hills beyond the window.

He is beautiful. Exquisitely formed, androgynous. His face is made of fire. You briefly wonder what angelic category he might belong to.
You have read somewhere that there are several. You conclude he must be of the highest order. He has not told you his name. It doesn't matter.

Then you see the spear in his hand, and you know it is meant for you. Meant to annihilate you. This is what you asked for. The spear is made of gold, and its tip is on fire. With a small smile, almost playful, he lifts his glorious weapon and plunges it into your heart. Again and again he thrusts, until he has penetrated your innermost core.

When at last he withdraws his spear, it feels as though he is carrying the deepest part of you away with him. You are left blazing, entirely consumed by love of God.

You swoon. You moan. The pain is unbearable. The pain is so glorious, you never want it to abate. Now you will not be content with anything less than total union with your divine Beloved.

Yes, this anguish is spiritual, not physical. True, your loins remain intact, your flesh unpierced. But the body shares this beautiful wound.

When you try to tell the others what happened to you, they think you're lying. You're just being melodramatic (again). "You want people to think you're some kind of mystic, "they say. "This is delusional," they declare. "Dangerous. "

'Beloved, "you beseech your God, "please give them a taste of your sweet love." You want the whole world to burn as you do. You want to see everyone illuminated.

I love you. I cannot help what I feel as hard as I try. As I cannot hide my darkness, I cannot resist you. Thank you for all the beauty that you have allowed my eyes to see. thank you for how a chorus affects me. Thank you for never leaving me.
I was convinced that you were no where to be found—I was certain that I believed a lie. When on cliff's edge I lost hope in life and love and beauty, you came. You found me. My love you found me! You patiently waited for me to know all dark things, and then set my heart on fire to see the glory of light, of joy and peace. Today, I see and I am alive... I see who I am and all that I have known as deep worthlessness beside what I now gaze upon. All the sky has opened and the storms are gone, and i am in the arms of my joy. I love you.