they ask
"how do you love what you cannot touch?"
I lift my glass palms to the furnace-fire sky
feel the sweet ache in my wrists and knees
each cell in my body is a note
together, they make a song
a symphony in progress
the Lord said,
"let there be light,
let there be dancing shoes,
let there be romantic sonnets,
let there be sweet potatoes,
let there be laughter"
and behold,
is it not beautiful?