POSTED 03/30/2018 15:13
Do not worry at the door knob
You won't have to open my wooden door.
For its always ajar.
You would hear the musical hinges say welcome
In the language the broken understands.
Come in O perished wayfarer that can't afford the bill of the inn!
Your place is not at the doorstep.
Come in you dispirited, grim, homeless and all you wanderers.
Do not wipe off the mud from the soles of your shoes.
For what pleasure is greatest to me than the footprints of the thirsty on the floors of my heart?
There is lullaby for the sleepless.
You'll sail to dreamland by the wind snores of other brothers sleeping.
Enter into the lordless empire with only servants of love.
Orbs and scepters have become ploughshares and sickles.
The oil lamp yearns to embrace you with warmth.
Do not hesitate nor yet doubt
The invitation scented with what heaven can tell is the secret of her beauty.
Have you perceived the healing herbs miles away?
Have the atmosphere called out to you?
Come then you wounded from the battlefield of your soul.
There is no mirror here
For your true reflection
A glass cannot bear.
Only the eyes of all that are the offspring of love.
I'll spare my robe you naked
While the night clothes me.
At sunset the spiders will be done weaving my gossamer gown.
There is bread and wine and books.
My flute calls you to the fireplace.
The guitar has come down to a string but one string is not the end of song.
Our hearts are golden harps betrothed to the Creator's fingers.
Thy tired footfalls is honored like the psalms of Israel.
The room is small but the heart is big.
A billion wouldn't fill it.
Love knows how the loaves and fishes multiply.
Welcome O brother -
To the sketch of paradise!
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