What is choice?
I did not decide
to meet you.
What is fate?
Could I have been destined
to need you?

Can there be
no maybes?
No gray
between black
     and
white --
(Abyss between the cliffs,
the nothing between everything)
-- Only "will," and "won't,"
never "might."

My mother, my brother:
Is it fate the love they give me,
and choice I hand it back?
Is it unteachable, unbreakable,
the bond within a pack?
And what of love found later on
that seems of greater worth?
Could the prophetic mistress, Fate,
grow this love and that at birth?

Is it only fate to love the ones
   you?
    raised
Who
And choice to love the one
   you?
    lifts
Who

So is it choice or is it fate?
There can be nothing in between.
Yet somehow,
though I did not choose to meet you,
or fall in love that day,
I would not have it another way.

No in between...?
I feel I have found the gray,
the twilight between night and day,
the little nothings in the everything
that make it all worthwhile.

It's in between introductions
and forever spent together
It's in between the sheets,
the covers of an album.
It's in between our smiles.
The in between is what we love --
What we live--
-- Whether choice or fate --
It's the bridge over abyss.
It's the love that stops your falling.
A second, a year, a look, a kiss.

This idea of choice, of fate,
it's unimportant, obsolete.
It matters only
What lies in between.