in calculus, we describe how infinitely close
we can approach a goal,
the fractions growing smaller and smaller.
The spirals decrease in size but we cannot leave
orbit,
we shall divide endlessly,
and perhaps because of that,
we will never find the end-
the limits of our physical world confine us to
imperfect numbers and imperfect love,
impossible to live in a seamless harmony, but:
if we are anything together, we ignite each other.
My heart sets on fire and my world shifts a little
when I look at you.
We've gotten as close as we possibly could,
always a step away, the centrifugal force
balancing the gravity that draws us into each other,
our magnetism impossible to avoid
but we cannot connect.
The divine irony enjoys this type of subtle humor,
the paradoxes arising from impossibilities and passion.
We're just lost in the night sky,
two stars coming inextricably close:
doing a heavenly dance, but the Lord of the light
knows the steps too well to allow us to collide.
I will forever admire you from the distance,
painfully caught betwixt many gravities
and I cannot escape-
til the day I die,
I shall salute you to whom I am tied;
we are spun around on the finger of God as He
sits bored waiting for something more important to do.
I watch your star spin wildly,
just too far for me to grasp- and I wait forever.
You're beautiful,
today just like every other day-
but our zero is out of reach,
and I'll never be with you.