If I became London,
would You still love me?
My towers reaching high
The clock borne in my breast
chiming midnight
my bed made with blankets of fog
and imported silk
If I were Washington,
would You love me?
My heart a soaring pillar
a memory of Egypt
my mind, a story
my hands working a forge
my fingernails tinged red
with clay
throwing a dream
If I were anyone else,
would I rest my head
in the shade of Your smile
in the midst of Your garden
beyond those locked gates?
Return, return
my child
the key is not the hearts of men
but the heart of Man
