The Sound of His Return

I am listening for him, listening for the sound of his return. His voice, his step outside my chamber, I eagerly await. “Come, Lord, come!” my heart cries out as breath is bated and I strain to hear the faintest sound.

I hear so many things as the time of his return approaches. I hear the groaning of the earth beneath the weight of sin that bears upon it. I hear all creation singing praises, quietly, persistently; a sound that even night has not the power to stop. Astounding are the things that can be heard when one takes the time to listen. Let the world rush by, but I shall wait with lamp full lit, eyes wide awake, listening for the footfalls of him whose face I’ve waited long to see. Come, Lord, come!

Artwork: Thisbe by John William Waterhouse