“Bid me come,” says the Lord.
Open doors, dream dreams.
“Oh Seer, Un-disappointable, un-offendable,”
Kneeling before the Worthy One,
First love.
“I want more of you,” says the Lord.
Ever beckoning, the voice at the door.
“Will you open for me?”
Rise out of bed, hand on the latch, I am beckoned.
“Dreamer, come and dream with me.”
Called to relent the independence, cradled indifference,
self protective credence, to be free.
