i know my love for you has changed, my love,
for when we met my passion seemed aflame.
but what then is it reminiscent of?
"i cannot know," i hear myself proclaim.
the pattern of our selves, our souls entwined
is much too large to see from where I stand.
the arguments (both couth and unrefined)
are tempered by the providence unplanned.
in looking back it's easier to see
the work of Him who tats our very lives.
impossible to view, the artistry
of current love and joy that now survives
designs of strength no mortal man may mar,
are but appreciated from afar.
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