My Lover or My God?

I think of him with longing every day.
The thoughts of him flow gently in and out of my consciousness
Like a thick but fading fog giving way to the gentle breezes of morning.
I'm cold.

Is the cold because of his absence or my nakedness?
I know I can't resist my desire for his presence.
The more I try, the more I need. The more I need, the more I fear.
I'm afraid.

I fear that my need won't be satisfied and that it will.
In the confusion of my own feelings I turn one way, then the other
Unable to commit to staying or going, diving in with my whole heart or walking away.
I'm ashamed.

I feel shame for wanting him like I do.
Echoes of childhood prayers and devotions reverberate through my soul,
Clouding my thoughts and intensifying my loneliness.
I'm alone.

In the calm of my solitude, I find clarity.
He fills me and fulfills me as no one else ever could.
I fall to my knees, look up, and open myself to him.
I'm free.

But who is the subject of my longing?
My lover or my God?

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I started this as a response to this week's FFF, but the picture really didn't do anything for me or help me go where I wanted to go with the sentiment of the poem. So, I just went my own way.

Many of us struggle with the nagging choice between prowling and fidelity, between the morality we grew up with and the fulfillment we need now. Often we come to understand that it's not a choice between one or the other, but a mosaic of choices, mistakes, passion, loss, and love that makes up our life.