The night will always open up its arms
To one like you, ye favored of the earth;
And shield you from the worst of worldly harms,
The way it has since your advantaged birth
Your travels done with such unthinking ease,
Tonight you are in Egypt for a spell;
While others scratch at dust upon their knees,
You’ve gifts unopened too profuse to tell
But why? It isn’t beauty or acclaim,
Although you’ve some of both, but just a share;
Your are not devious or full of shame,
You’re merely you, and mostly, you’re just there –
Perhaps, you’re not what I should contemplate,
But why I look at you, and curse my fate
