You draw out of me
Things that I could
Never plan,
Like painting
Father Universe
On a Man
Whose wife
In another part
Of the room
Is being painted
Mother planet
Each with
Blue coats
Planets and
Stars…
Him gloves of
White hot suns
And her black
Gloves
The remnant
Of void
Of space…
How could such
A thing be planned?
Unless we had surrendered
To you my
Beloved
Synchronicity!
There are
Coincidents which
Can be mathematically
Accounted for
And then
There are those
Things for
Which the odds
Are too astounding!
My life
My feet
My hands
Tread and act
With you as
Every breath
An heartbeat…
Guide me
Beloved…
For we are
On a grand
Adventure!
And I gladly
Follow you
Because every act
Becomes amazing
In your wake.
