I don't know why that woman bothered me so easily--the woman speaking about the One. I was rather rude to her, and I know it caught her off guard.

Maybe it is because I don't believe like she does. Or, maybe it is because I'm jealous--no, not of her--but, of the One. Maybe I was so irritated because I know I can't be the One; I can't even pretend to be a servant or friend of the One. I can't be the One--I can't save, I can't protect, I can't oversee the moments, or crush the space in my hands. I am not the One--I don't surpass language or time, I don't exceed all excess, or transcend all transcendence. I am not the One--I can't provide, can't shelter, can't promise, can't fix.

I think at times we all try to either be the One or to meet the One. Some of us want to meet the One. Some of us want to be the One.

I think because I don't believe like that woman I know that not only can I not be the One--but, I can't even be your One. I think I know that I can't be the One of any-one--even though I wish I could.

No. I can welcome the moments. I can take the seconds as they are given to me one by one. I can remember certain moments and seconds--certain smiles and laughter. I can remember certain touches. I can long for more. I can try. I can expect. I can hope with you, beyond hope, not for One--but for . . . what? I don't know. Maybe, just another second--to be given one more second--in which to hope. I can hope for hope and no more.

That is all I can be for any-one--for you. That is all I can be for you. It doesn't feel like enough, but, what is one to do?