Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we cry
Enjoying our moments in wealth and good vibes
But there are those times when we get caught and despair,
Only a miracle can save us, dear friend,
                                                              from our poetry's tragic end.

One night fully spent in the wake of long hours,
With thoughts streaming loud: You'll be mine,
Look what we've prepared for you!"
The images moving in slow motion in waves,
Only a miracle can save us, good friend.

Peaceful times disturbed, lust for life,
                                                        lust for the eternal love,
Why don't we dare to know all this justice?
Why am I asking for more sorrow and trouble?
Only a miracle can save us from ourselves.

Let men burn stars out from innocuous lightyears pulled through the vortex

Like needle and thread, sown by centuries of sparked, graceful union

(Their strength and vigor found in the cross-stitching)

And ever gently unfolding like outer reach, like inner *****

In the garden of our senses, flowing with milk and honey, by means of forethought or afterglow

One thought of ecstasy, one thought of infinite parable taking new light to bed

The sacred beams bending to form a crescent, a lunula of utmost happiness

They may not have met the right way. After a thousand words shared, they knew they found magic. She came unannounced and
he caught her off guard. His soul greeted hers like a long lost friend. The road of their love may not be paved smooth. Her stubborn heart surrendered to his persistent hand. Whispering promises with a mouthful of forevers. She was not the first person he loved. He was not the first person she kissed. They were not afraid of each other’s scars. They held each other with hope and the warmth of forgiveness.
She knew whether his a storm or the sun or distant. They found their miracle.
All her love had a place to finally call home.

Lust's outcome, unwanted, abandoned at birth.
Mothered by strangers, some naturally motherly,
some perversely wicked; fathers, a terrifying notion.
Fearing constantly: of the next face, the next stranger,
the next meal, the next bath, of dark and dawn.
Thrown about, moved around, from hand to hand;
Recovering from bruises to bruises, from slaps to whips.

But for being chosen from before the beginning,
and a name etched permanently in the Book of Life,
was found, saved, raised and guarded by Love.
The trauma of becoming left no resentful damage
but nurtured an instinctive sensitive soul, most acutely aware
of the deceitfulness, perversity and utter wickedness of man
and a constant wonderment of the miracle of Love.