When Love Stopped Weighing Me Down

We are synchronicity
Pattern emerged from chaos
As the winter robes the ground
In crystal lace and ivory furs

You are serendipity
The grinning bias of circumstance
When nocturnal pens joined our Horizons
I did not yet recognize my muse

I am blessed
Which is what Haitians say
When their hearts glow brilliant with hope
And their minds throb thickly with doubt

I am grateful
Which is what the Japanese say
When atonement is less than it seems possible to ask
And more than it seems possible to bear

This is love
I suppose, not the poetry I imagined
Not Shakespearian couplets nor scintillating rhyme
But the steady march of two soldiers.

Here is this metamorphosis
Early struggles of distraction into
Aliens on this third planet
Our home a wasteland of ancient battles