If I am your priest
Confess to me all,
If I am your lover
Trust in this fall,
If I am your guru
Then listen deeply,
If I am your friend
Accept me freely,
If I am your mirror
You must be patient,
If I am your master
You must be vacant.
But I’m just a door,
Much more lies ahead,
I swing back and forth -
This is where I end,
I am a window,
An invitation,
A story teller
At my own station.
The buses they come
Day in and day out,
But you like many
Want a promised route,
But I offer none,
Not even brochures,
I make one empty
For blissful grandeur.
So don’t linger here
By the window sill,
For I love you dear,
More than any will:
Take life’s bus alone,
No stories to postpone,
And when you return
With a light of your own,
I will seat you my lady
On your golden throne.