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.
