Oh, ye others...

... my door is not in its hinges anymore
... my roots are ready for having drunk your blood
... my giving is ready for your stream to enter my house
... and how do you want to stream?

Oh, ye others...

... your way is kissed and so appreciated by me, and the others
... your choices are respected within their always larger scheme
... your love is re-loved in its sweet inexperience, which is growing experience

Oh, ye others...

Stream through me
Your eyes cannot touch me
They can only see
Inside the stream

(But I remain.)