The Question

Love, a question has destroyed you. I have come back to you from thorny uncertainty. I want you straight as the sword or the road. But you insist on keeping a nook of shadow that I do not want. My love, understand me, I love all of you, from eyes to feet, to toenails, inside, all the brightness, which you kept. It is I, my love, who knocks at your door. It is not the ghost, it is not the one who once stopped at your window. I knock down the door: I enter your life: I come to live in your soul: you cannot cope with me. You must open door to door, you must obey me, you must open your eyes so that I may search in them, you must see how I walk with heavy steps along all the roads that, blind, were waiting for me. Do not fear, I am yours, but I am not the passenger or the beggar, I am your master, the one you were waiting for, and now I enter your life, no more to leave it, love, love, love, but to stay.