Is this THE ONE?

I sit in front of this blank piece of paper, rather numb with a wistful desire to ink it with one of those writes that I would be simply penning down but it shall, in actual, be a decree of the Providence…my pen, as if , dictated by some mystic power, shall just run an errand of His.

The pen shall run effortlessly , its ink forming letters , thus words and thus sentences…my pen, as if, possessed by the divine spirit.

I still stare at this piece of paper point blank waiting for His command…my motor senses waiting with baited breath for the time when they would involuntarily lift the pen and start expressing what they have been commanded to.

I write this scrawling while I wait for His decree. His decree shall be far more superior than this filthy thing that I have been writing that makes no sense, whatsoever. After all, how can a low despicable wretch like me, compete with the one who is immaculate, with the one who is invincible, with the progenitor of the Universe, of the galaxy, of the countless stars, of the sun, the planets, the solar system and several such systems that we still have a very inconspicuous idea about, the creator of all that which is still unknown to us, our Father… ?
How could I ever compete with the all pervading, the omnipotent , the omniscient?

The waiting still continues. It’s a long wait indeed. Doubts start arising in my mind regarding if ever I shall be decreed by Him, if ever I shall be bestowed on the privilege to run an errand for Him.

As time passes, my faith in THE DECREE fades. I feel there must be some obstacle between His declaration and my pen. An obstacle equivalent to darkness, to ignorance.

Now, I wait for this darkness to wane. Even the mighty earth waits for the sun’s rays for eight long minutes to illuminate it, can’t I wait for some more time before He illuminates me with His Word?

Meanwhile, I prepare the reservoir in me. I cleanse it. I remove the clutter so as to make space for the Word to ensconce itself comfortably.

Then, all of a sudden, a thought settles in me and sets my mind afire. Thoughts are indeed inflammable. My faith starts forming roots anew with that one last realization that if He is the creator of all, if everything around is His design then that implies that even I am one of His designs, even I have a part of His in me that I need to unearth by digging myself, by delving deeper in the oceans in me.

I come to realize that there is no reason that shall keep me aloof from His divine intervention, of His decree. Its bound to come or may be it has come in the form of this very write that I had previously, so disrespectfully deemed as ‘a filthy scrawling’.