I used to hold love tightly in my fists
Because I had been told that was the way
I could ensure that love would always stay.
I walked around with weary hands and wrists,
Not doing much but fiercely holding on.
I said, I know that love is worth the price,
Worth all this pain, worth every sacrifice.
I opened up my hands, and love was gone.

Now I reach open palms toward open skies;
Forgive me my unwitting blasphemy.
Make of my Self, O Love, a dwelling still,
In fullness, free from any chains or ties,
And live, not in my hands, but all of me.
Come, love; go, love; and be it as you will.