Sometimes you come to me Disguised as a friend, a stranger A student sometimes And, sitting low below me You ask me, ardently, to sing… Enamored by your asking, then Yet, slowly and hesitantly, like A hatchling tiptoeing to the edge of a cliff Warmed by the sun that also seems to be below I sing my blurry-eyed song Just a newborn, raw call across the immense valley That I don’t yet know how to cross… But you break into rapture You dance on the words And hold close my broken notes As if they were stars of the rarest sky And – as if they came from me – When, I know, it is all you… Even the wind Even the wings Even the valley Even the song. Tell me, my Master Isn’t this how you ease me Out of the frail safety of my nest? Don’t you make me a hawk And, you, the sky I pour myself into So I may learn from your open arms That joy has two sides: One, a giver, two, a receiver…? The world holds higher the giver The singer, the poet, the painter, but If there weren’t always the receptacle The unconditional, bottomless heart There would be no homecoming No tears of joy… Would there? And when our exchange is done for the night And sleep closes all outward doors I forget all this grand knowing, except: How much you love me That you meet me everywhere, inside everything. This is the gift you wanted me to find Hidden in your disguise Isn’t it?