I am knocking at the door,
not knowing what will answer.
I am answering the door,
not knowing what will present itself...
ask for entrance...
ask for what I have to give...
tea...or a bit of bread...
companionship...a moment...
everything.
Everything.
What was ever mine, Beloved?
All of it has always belonged to you.
You are shelter.
You are bread.
You are the birdsong singing to me now...
and incense burning a holy welcome.