Walk with me in cool of day,
to a garden prepared where we can meet.
All quiet here, like you at your centre;
this is the access point through which I come.
A voice, a voice, calls you to beauty,
where isolation ushers in a better balm.
Drink the bitter to taste the sweet;
this is the access point through which I come.
Sacred wine and bread is what your soul craves,
in the room and portion reserved just for you.
Here I lay down, my body the banquet;
this is the access point through which I come.
Pass through the gate that leads to communion;
bar shut every one that keeps you from me.
In your hand, a key unlocks the space between us;
this is the access point through which I come.
Our meeting place, our sealed fountain and fragrance
rest in the secret where I’m waiting for you.
Your heart, your heart, opens to the mystery;
this is the access point through which I come.
