Rough Draft No. 2 - Holy Contradiction

I want to yearn for You. 

I do.

I want to plug my ears with my fingers
  until You are all I hear,

  a whooshing 

I want to pick my way up
  the jagged rock of You,
  certain of every foothold,

  knowing that my gasping self
  will always find
  its next breath
  in You.

I want to burst into parties —"SURPRISE!" —
  and search the faces for You.

You are treasure.
No grimy coin on the sidewalk,

No quarter flecked with gum,
You are the lottery and I win You every time.
Every time I fix my eyes on You,
and not on others' scurrying feet
or the pulsing lights above.

I want to be the lost sheep
relieved You found me,
and I want to be the 99
never doubting You'd return.
I want to sing of You and keep You to myself
  (a jealous hoarder am I)
  but You are infinite
  and I cannot consume You.

I want to rest and I want to flee —
  but You say
  yoke: easy

  burden: light.

I want to wear out my shoes looking for You
  finding You
  following You.
And when You bloom through Your word

I will gladly exhaust myself
gathering more and more of You
into my already-bursting arms.