The lover knocked on the door. The Beloved looked out. "Who's there?"
"I am here," he said.
The Beloved closed the door. For many years the lover roamed around, broken, suffering, not understanding much.
Years later he returned to the Beloved and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?"
"There is no-one but you," he said...And the door was opened.
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Will we be crucified for what we said, what we didn't say? To act on what one knows; to not act on what one doesn't know.
"I wasn't myself," we say to ourselves. Or, in a Buddhist frame of mind (Ginsberg?): "I caught myself napping..": a moment that floods into others.
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