Subliminal

Door, little door, Shadowed door in the innermost room of my heart, I lean and listen, withdrawn from the stir and apart, For a word of the wordless love.

And still you hide, Yourself of me, who are more than myself, within, And I wait if perchance a whisper I may win From my soul on the other side.

What do I catch Afloat on the air, for something is said or done? Are there two who speak--my soul and the nameless One? Little door, could I lift the latch.

Sigh for some want Measureless sigh of desire, or a speechless prayer? Rustle of robe of a priest at sacrifice there Benediction or far-heard chaunt?

Could we but meet, Myself and my hidden self in a still amaze! But the tramp of men comes up, and the roll of drays, And a woman’s cry from the street!