three words she picked from her Angel Cards
under an oak on a hill, and she wonders
what the future holds. So I meditate:
Expectancy— the last pearl in Pandora's box.
Love— the miracle that moves the sun and stars.
Openness— the key to the cave of Ali Baba.

Expect the unexpected— life tosses
not soft pitches in straight lines for you to hit
but often a sweeping curve low and away
or a change-up that throws off your timing.
You need to be vigilant— focus, focus,
your candle aflame before the angels come.

Lover and beloved are one— Rumi had it right.
Your true love is not out there somewhere but
in you all along. Rilke says, to be loved is
to be consumed, to love is to radiate with light.
Tagore says, let my love, like sunlight, surround
you and yet give you illumined freedom.

Open your window— let the fresh wind in.
Open your door, let in your soul mate and friend.
Open your mind, let new ideas sprout and grow.
Open your heart, let ships sail in your ocean.
Open your eyes, let the world's joy flow through.
Eyes speak, words look, eyes close, the words open.

Our earth, an open bowl filled with seeds and rain.
An oak is dreaming inside a sleeping acorn—
wake up! wake up! Expect love to open
you like a ripe melon at any moment.
Angels are coming now to your open house,
if your cake is not baked, feed them this poem.


Peter Y. Chou
Mountain View, Oct. 27, 2000