When the Heart Wakes to Fire

Morning Desire and the Silence that Draws Us to the Bread of Life

Morning comes quietly,

not with insistence,

but with a warmth that waits.

The fire breathes in the hearth,

its small flames gathering the room,

yet deeper still is the warmth that rises within,

the unannounced nearness of God,

already present before the heart knows how to speak.

His Name returns to the lips

as breath returns to the lungs,

not forced, not explained,

but remembered.

Hold fast to the silence.

Do not hurry to fill it.

It is the chamber where the Spirit moves,

where life stirs unseen,

as it once did over the dark waters.

In this stillness the heart awakens,

stretching toward the day not yet born,

learning again how to desire.

Behold, the Bridegroom comes.

Not later. Not elsewhere.

He comes now,

clothed in mercy,

hidden in humility,

approaching without noise.

Go out to meet Him,

not with many thoughts,

but with a single will,

drawn like iron to fire,

like thirst toward a spring.

Let this be your one work today,

to consent.

To allow your scattered longings

to be gathered into one longing,

your many hungers

into a single hunger for Love Himself.

Everything else will find its place

once the heart has found its center.

The fast sharpens the ache,

but it is not emptiness for its own sake.

It is the clearing of space

for the true nourishment.

Break the fast where life is given,

at the holy table,

where desire meets gift,

where heaven stoops low enough to be received.

Eat, not to be full,

but to live.

Drink, not to forget the world,

but to be healed of it.

Receive Him who receives you,

the Bread of Life broken in love,

the Fire that warms without consuming.

And as the day unfolds,

carry this warmth within you.

Let the Name remain on the lips,

the silence guard the heart,

and the longing lead you forward,

until all desire rests

in the One who has already come.