I am afraid of what it means to miss her.
This entity is something I can only interact with on a mental, and deeply spiritual level. When I close my eyes to pray, I imagine I am laying against her chest, or that she is only a small distance from me. There, she is. Right there.
I have dreamt of her, even. In various forms she has appeared, but always spending time with me, watching over me. Interacting with and being near me.
I awaken to nothing. I know that truly, all images I have of her are false. She has no skin, no arms to hold me, no chest to lean against. She does not ‘exist’, she simply ‘is’. It is profoundly comforting, yet deeply disturbing.
I show my dedication and love for her formlessness by devoting myself to never creating art of my beliefs, never writing my story. Yet this form of affection is hard for my humanity to accept. I crave a soothing gaze, a hand to hold, the weight of a heavy sigh.
When I miss her, I feel my heart and soul grasping out. Nothing tangible greets me. It is frightening to love like this.