There you are
Reading this Like peeping Toms. Intruders. Prowling round my soul. Pulling away the curtains, Tearing down the walls, Storming the gate. And yet it was I That let you in. Opening wide my chest To wrap you up, Blessed ogler. Sacred intruder. Hallowed guest. Here - bear away my finest. Take the candle sticks as well. Leave me barren But for the sweet perfume Of one who wanted, prized my finest. Two threads of a tapestry Touching Once But Eternally knit into the same cloth we are. For in the spoils You bear away the sacred cup From which I drink. Can you bear to drink From wells of sorrow? Can you dip the cup Deep into the cauldron Where boils like acid The scourge and the affliction, And then fly away like the bluebird Deep, Deep into the sacred wood, Far from human tracks, Where shadows deepen, Like portals to the mystic plane? Beware the spoils Of men who've lost their fear of death. Beware the spoils Of him who courts the thief. For if he who prizes more your soul Than all his richest treasures Suffers you to carry off his valuables Do not be surprised When that same spirit Fills your own house And makes it his own. Yours and his of course. But his none the less. And there you are Reading this poem Like peeping Toms? No. Like next of kin. Here - pull up a chair. Sit by my fire. Drink deep the cup Warm and sweet. There now. That's right. Off to sleep. Sleep well my child. The bitter gourd Will wait for another day. But tonight we dwell safely here. Deep, Deep within my heart. Where none can hurt you. Stay a season if you must Or a year Or a life time From we are of the same cloth, Two threads of a tapestry, Touching Once But eternally knit, You and I.
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