In a quiet room, in the middle of summer, I have read the news you had sent.

You are embarking on a journey to the country Of marriage. There Time's wheel will turn again.

And there the old will become new again, And the codicils will open to a new page.

There write of music, and the darkness between the notes. There write of love, and the suffering that is its twin.

Let your lives, now hinged in seperate selves, Close and open as one, like shutters of a high window,

So that between you there is enough sun and rain, So that within you there is space for the other's refrain.

And that I, the stranger who is in you, on walking out some night Can see and rejoice in your love's overflowing delight.

For Kutti