Enter Ye, Cautiously. . .
‘May I enter your house?’ I asked
and you answered, ‘yes, but cautiously.
You must discard all pretense, assume the mantle
of charity and hold high the torch of love.’
‘Ahhh,’ I said, ‘but would I qualify?
‘This house I see has a green carpet
with blue ceiling, mystically supporting
poufs of cotton, shadowing and lined with sparklers.
It has spheres of light masking the dark outlines
of animation, movement in forms
different than my own.’
‘I have lived in this house and participated
in celebrations of great sorrows, have laughed in truth
and wept with joy. I have danced in funerals
and in great succession marched words through
battles of mind and spirit.’
‘I have accused myself and have hung by fingertips
grown numb and identified the faults of Others
only because I identified my own.
I loved and continued to love in the face of contradictions
because I did not know what else to do.
There is nothing left now, so I ask,
may I enter your house?’
‘What have you described?’ you chide as I stand astonished.
What else is there I wonder and
what is to be exchanged.
‘I hang a star,’ you say, ‘midst the night sky,
and in the quality of your God you will build
your world. It will not be mine but yours.
And when you leave the spot holding you hostage,
you will take your world and those becoming to it will enter.
But entering also will be the dark angels,
but with premises swept clean,
they will delay littering. But once established
the land will become familiar and they again litter
and your sights will be pinned on Me.’
‘And I will hear you ask again,
may I enter? And I will say, all ye who enter here,
discard pretense, assume the mantle of charity and
hold high the torch of love.’
‘I see,’ I said
‘and then the Father’s House will be swept clean.’