First I unlock the door
That you might come to me
I open the windows
I cut fresh flowers
I unbind my hair
That you might come to me
I pick some ripe fruit
I light some candles
I sing an old love song
That you might come to me
I polish the mirrors
I shine up my dreams
I bathe myself in the four winds
That you might come to me
It is all of no use
You never will come
Until I have given myself up
To tears and whimpering,
Guile quite forgotten in hopelessness-
Only then do you come into me.
But ever forgetting that
I try everything else first.

You wanted a shelter against the tempest
I became a leafy tree
You wanted a haven safe from rain
I became a dry cave mouth
You wanted sustenance from the earth
I became wild rice and spelt
You wanted strong protection both day and night
I became a hall of stone pillars
You wanted to worship man made idols
I squeezed myself down to fit small temples
You wanted a structure like hands raised in prayer
I became an over-arching cathedral
You wanted sanctified rites for life and death
I became the true Religion
You wanted a landmark to honor your ancestors
I became a giant's play-circle of stones
You wanted dependable and natural food
I became fertile fields of grain
You wanted a memorial to primordial mankind
I became ochre'd paint on smoky cave walls
You wanted your freedom, you were too boxed in
I became leafy green bowers...

You were unhappy, you had too many choices
I took it all away again and left it back to chance
In order that you should make your own happiness-
You, who couldn't find contentment
When things came to you naturally, uncomplicated
I may be God, who can mold myself into any form I desire:
But you will always be the form most desired by me.

For here we have no continuing city-
Here the falcons and the herons
Clash overhead, and the dead fall to ground
Like so many feckless soldiers.

For here we have no continuing city-
Wolves and foxes bear young in the caves
And they track the moon till dawn
Like the last worshipers of a lunar deity.

For here we have no continuing city-
When you reach out to touch my hand
Wild goats stumble high up in the cliffs
And the rabbit escapes the trap narrowly.

Do flower, drop some dew
Upon me
And ripen me too
I follow you, reaper
Sower of dreams
How it gleams
In a fair flowers face.

Sun hunter, shines on high
Shine on me
Hunter, gathering by
Dreams of a sun weaver
Spreading your glow
Lights up soul
With a rainbow trace.

Love potion, on earth bestowed
Love the best portion
Enter us whole
Seeking always
As the dream's began
Till heart of man
Find every grace.

People who always are writing of ***
Are like birds, always writing of feathers;
We know it's their specialty, and they're proud-
But find another subject, for crying out loud!

For half the fun is in chasing the one
That you want to handcuff to you (in love);
But don't leave behind poems, on your nightly passes
Like deflated balloons, lying in grasses..

Ah, the lips, and ah, what cheeks;
Methinks though, you are not too deep.
What sunbleached tresses frame your face,
Even though you're lacking taste;
Your laugh tears out the soul of me,
And you're quite bent, it's plain to see.

Now touch me not, with your white hand:
Anemic sprites, I cannot stand;
Fix me not, in your blue eyes,
For I don't want to hear those sighs.
I'm sure your organs are complete-
But I care not, to hear you bleat!

A child would have his toy,
And a man would have his girl;
As brides must have their joy,
And god must have a world.

They're things that, made for each of us,
As though our name were printed;
And don't forget love, peace and trust,
By which our life gets tinted.

Though I think, we'd live on love
Alone; if things were short supply'd-
And just a slit, of bluest sky-
And breadth, of a lover's sigh.