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        I am a foundling.
       My Beloved has raised me
       From a child to a man.

       Now, the mysteries
       Of manhood lie before me.

       He has crafted the Light
       In which my days run,
       Sunrise and sunset,
       Until my end,

       Magnificent the web of meaning
       He has spun to tell our story.

       He has crafted our lives
       As gifts to Him,
       Rushing in rivers of significance
       Down to the Ocean of His Love,

       Sweet our journeying dreams,
       Down days of measured moons
                                          and suns
       And poetry of gilded light
       Cut in thickness like cake

       And sculpted into Creation
       By His loving, sensitive Hand.

       I am glad my Master has called me
       To His Castle Sublime,
       His Round Table,

      And I may live
       What most know only in legends.

       And I am glad I responded,
       For He once planted a resilient seed
       In the soil of my heart,
       Which will not be satisfied till it has
       And earned a place in Love's

       So though I may return
                             time and again
       To the cities of vacant dreaming,
       My heart knows a sadness there
        It cannot quench.

       City of Love,
       May I never leave you!
       Heart, may I always be
       Cupbearer to the Beloved,

       Whose Chalice, sacred, concealed,
       Pours forth Love upon all.

       City of Love,
       In your precincts
       May I serve my rounds,
       Until He calls
       For the Drink that unites us.

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