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...)