like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself 

he threshes you to make you naked 

he sifts you to free you from you husks 

he grinds you to whiteness 

he kneads you until you are pliant 

and then he assigns you to his sacred fire 

that you may become sacred bread for god's sacred feast 

all these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secred of your heart

and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's heart 

but if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure 

then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor 

into the seasonless world where you shall laugh 

but not all of your laughter and weep but not all of your tears 

love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself 

love possesses not nor would it be possessed 

for love is sufficient unto love