The impudence of inquiry

The impudence of inquiry                                                                          
 
Where do I end and You begin –
this host of heart-strangers
 
crowding out its one, true resident?
At what boundary do we meet and cross, Lord?
 
Have I missed you somewhere? 
Do I miss You often?  At what point do we blend –
 
not in someday Union but in everyday existence? 
Should I expect answers from You –
 
when my questions are the mere seeking of attention,
the voicing of my emptiness.
 
O child of God, you waver between the impudence
of inquiry and the audacity of discernment.