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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

House of the World

I am asking the world
to come to my house,
come through its doors,
bring smells,
the pastry of its dust,
the wild scent of its air.
I want my house
to be a corner where a path bends,
where I stop by
the rushing water of faucets
and hear falls.
Where my shirt can be open
and I can breathe
the wind in its rafters.

I want the roof off at night
to see stars melting into light.
I want the walls
to be windows.
I want chasms
where the stairs climb,
and the frost
inside my legs
turns warm with stepping.
I want my house
to be openness,
a home,
where I rise each day
and acknowledge
the family I belong to,
the world.

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