HE IT IS, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep hidden touches. He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and pain. He it is who weaves the web of this maya in evanescent hues of gold and silver, blue and green, and lets peep out through the folds his feet, at whose touch I forget myself. Days come and ages pass, and it is ever he who moves my heart in many a name, in many a guise, in many a rapture of joy and of sorrow.
ON THAT NIGHT when the storm broke open my door. I did not know that you entered my room through the ruins, For the lamp was blown out, and it became dark; I stretched my arms to the sky in search of help. I lay on the dust waiting in the tumultuous dark and I knew not that storm was your own banner. When the morning came I saw you standing upon the emptiness that was spread over my house.
NONE NEEDS BE thrust aside to make room for you. When love prepares your seat she prepares it for all. Where the earthly King appears, guards keep out the crowd, but when you come, my King, the whole world comes in your wake.
