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LXXX

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you did not know yourself when you dwelt alone, and there was no crying of an errand when the wind ran from the hither to the farther shore.

i came and you woke, and the skies blossomed with lights.

you made me open in many flowers; rocked me in the cradles of many forms; hid me in death and found me again in life.

i came and your heart heaved; pain came to you and joy.

you touched me and tingled into love.

but in my eyes there is a film of shame and in my breast a flicker of fear; my face is veiled and i weep when i cannot see you.

yet i know the endless thirst in your heart for sight of me, the thirst that cries at my door in the repeated knockings of sunrise.

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