At thy Door*

Whence the morning comes
With flowers , buds, light and charms,
How usually i arrive
At thy door, life,

Oft i go there, love,
With the morning on us,
Sweet as the day begins,
How i turn up , since
(i , by thy Benediction had learnt
What is it to be,
To be in thy love, fully)
The light of Thy love, me, kissed,

That Door, which remains
Closed only to be opened,
By a Prayer, a pleading,
How i go there all morns,
Since had i learnt reading
What thy words really mean,
How i go there, for You, O The Unseen,

There i stand tireless,
(There, i seek not Thou,
For knowing You is itself a bless,)
There i stand motionless,
And those flowers, creepers, vines,
Sending across aroma sure,
How quenches all my thirst, hunger and pines,

i just stand there quiet,
Drenched by the morning's light
And as if in a dream,
Me then gathers the delight
Of living , life,

Whence the morning comes,
With flowers, buds,light and charms,
How usually i arrive,
At thy door, life.

(*Note: loosely based upon a painting as attached done by Gleb Goloubetski, Courtesy : Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni.)

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