running on empty

I have got to find him...
and I'm running like hell past your Prada shoes
i'm in high pursuit like "where's waldo?" books
I
hope he hears me
as I run yelling his name
and something inside of him feels my spirit pulling just the same
I'm not concerned about my being too tall
or if my hair is right
or my feet not small
enough
He
has a way of making things right
and somehow he hears the silent droplets on my pillow some nights
i'm picking up speed
hoping I catch him in the streets
hoping he can say something to me through someone I meet
When I get to him, i'm arriving with gratitude
for all the times i was in danger but somehow got rescued
I'm racing towards him with appreciation in my backpack
I've got adoration around my neck
with worship in my knapsack
Swift images of the ones I love pass by my eyes
i'm scurrying past the ones who weren't ready... too busy looking at my thighs
i'm rushing past the ones who only took from me
i'm sprinting through the intellectual, theorhetical, ... the stuff that makes me doubtful
I'm darting towards the hopeful, life-full, with my life-full and open
to give back to HIM.