The Masterpiece of True Love

(that jar of paint was not meant for any-body…)

Dear Michelangelo,

I try to forget you.

But your light shines through

on to

me

every day. everywhere.

Wherever I turn

I find you

There

(Painting

Me.)

I try to imagine

A-nother

with their brush

stroking, creating, imagining…

but they are not

you.

They cannot

paint

me

the way you do.

(For they do not, they cannot– see me

through

your

eyes.)

I cannot

imagine

anyone but

you

C o l o r i n g

me

I Know the touch of your brush;

I know your stretch of color;

I understand—your imagination;

I know your thoughts

and the very

idea of

y o u

has become

the very essence

of

me.

To forget you?

How- could- I?

For you are me

and I am

you.

You have merely painted me in the

colors of your-self. I have merely

acknowledged and

a c c e p t e d–

the master-

piece of

us…

with love,

Your Sistine Chapel

So, when that Clock is about to strike 12 and that noon train is approaching around the bend; the tracks are laden with golden bricks pointing in a Direction and your life is asking you:  Decide, Decide, Decide…who are you going to listen to?  Your heart or your mind?

(only time will tell…)

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