Consider the infinite and the finite.
Finite moments compose the infinite.
Enter the dance whose steps create
any covenant made in love
to the thousandth generation.
The particular reaches the eternal.
The Word spans infinity forevermore
whereas anxiety scrambles possibility.
Be not anxious.
Or, at least, do not show it.
The songbirds will return.
I said, "I dreamed last night of an inchworm
measuring the distance of our suffering."
She said, "Distance times time equals
the speed at which things fall apart."
I asked, "Do you think creation could
have been made any other way?"
She answered, "In the space we inhabit
change only happens at the edge
of where chaos and order frolic."
I asked another question, "Don't take
this the wrong way but can I have
the next dance?"
She replied, "Only if you fondly promise
to promenade with me all the way down
the corridor of time."