One half, One half of One (w)hole.

In my nature I have the drive to
find my other half.
I once was attached to another,
a palpable repetition of my own flesh.
We rolled and danced, tumbling
with our four legs,
our four arms.
We were found and defined by connection,
complete,
experiencing the world
through malaise.

It was not a thought of two,
or four (limbs),
or twenty (toes).
It was a station of completion.
We knew not what we had,
it just was.

Our characters were not courageous
enough,
nor extreme enough,
to please our God. And so we were split,
Ripped down the middle,
torn from our natural state.
Made into half creatures that laugh,
and cry, with one set of tears,
one belly of laughter.

As it was,
so it is now,
That I have ten toes,
I have two legs, and two arms.
I have two eyes each, and two ears.
All reaching in the direction of completion.

In this direction I flail,
I am reckless. I am unwavering,
in desire.
Such an emotion that I never knew.
I thrust myself onto other half forms,
looking for that fit.
We writhe and scramble.
We shake and moan,
and we continue.
We try desperately to become one another
once again.

Though, I know now.
I know the thought of my God.
I do not find my half,
I find a breadth of emotionality.
I find despair, and lust.
I find sorrow. Sorrow that strains my knees,
Elation with each prospecting fit.
A swelling of heat within my body,
this elation. It breaks into my muscles,
builds and builds.
And then it ebbs. And I return looking.
I hit the sorrow. That sorrow that strains my knees.

I know the thought of my God.
This God who broke down my daze,
of general contentment, held in the arms of my arms
of my other half.
I am so, forced. Forced into these feelings
these impersonations of depth.
To know the absence of my half.

And so it is now. I search,
I search. And I hopefully will find.
I will find the arms that are my own,
that will comfort me in ways that my attached arms
can not.
And I will understand the strength of our halves.
I have shaken my malaise, God.
I do so, in understanding.

Though my understanding is one
of great sorrow and need.
Because in the end, I am just one half,
one half of one whole.
One whole that is incomplete.
And so I search.