I Love You When You Bow In

Women Opened The Windows Of My Eyes And The Doors Of My Spirit. Had It Not Been For The Woman-mother, The Woman-sister, And The Woman-friend, I Would Have Been Sleeping Among Those Who Seek The Tranquility Of The World With Their Snoring.

Much Of Your Pain Is Self-chosen. It Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self. Therefore Trust The Physician, And Drink His Remedy In Silence And Tranquility: For His Hand, Though Heavy And Hard, Is Guided By The Tender Hand Of The Unseen, And The Cup He Brings, Though It Burn Your Lips, Has Been Fashioned Of The Clay Which The Potter Has Moistened With His Own Sacred Tears.

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names. It Was Love Lashed By Its Own Self That Spoke. It Was Pride Half Slain That Fluttered In The Dust. It Was My Hunger For Your Love That Raged From The Housetop, While My Own Love, Kneeling In Silence, Prayed Your Forgiveness.

And Is Not The Lute That Soothes Your Spirit The Very Wood That Was Hollowed With Knives?

From A Sensitive Woman's Heart Springs The Happiness Of Mankind, And From The Kindness Of Her Noble Spirit Comes Mankind's Affection.