Poem: Where are you?

Love's Curiosity Series

Love was first tested and proven
not in creation's grand display
but in a simple question:
Where are you?
walking through Eden's dusk,
knowing full well the answer,
yet choosing the gift
of invitation.

For curiosity is love's deepest form—
not born from ignorance
but from abundance,
the choice to listen
even when all is known,
to invite the voice
even when the heart
is already held.

Love chooses questions
over statements.
It leans in with wonder,
makes space for halting truths,
for stories wrapped in shame,
for the ache of being seen
and still wanted.

Every genuine question
is a small resurrection,
calling forth the buried voice,
the silenced song.
It says: you matter enough
to be wondered about,
your thoughts deserve
the light of speaking.

Curiosity refuses
to assume, to possess, to close—
it's the open palm, the tilted head,
the pause that says
tell me more,
let me witness
your unfolding.

The deepest love says
no matter what I know,
I still want to hear from you—
your fears, your hopes, your thoughts.
Speak, and let us
share this moment.

So when shame would seal our lips,
remember that ancient voice
still walking through our gardens,
asking not from need
but from desire to commune:
Where are you, beloved?
Come, tell me everything.

This is the gospel of questions,
the good news of holy curiosity:
every sincere tell me
is love choosing to listen,
choosing to wonder,
choosing us again
in the cool of evening.