Because life is a series of edits

Us (A Poem for Mother’s Day)

In Friends on May 13, 2012 at 7:40 am

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A lot seems our lot in life these days.
Would you change it if you could?
Could we change us if we should?

I wonder what you think when you wonder what I feel.
Or is it "if" I feel, "if" you think – what's our deal?
And yet somehow we work.

Us.

Did you think it would be this hard?
Could you do it again, or do I not want to know?
Would you say if I asked, or should I just let it go?

I doubt you will say, but then you say, "Without a doubt."
You doubt I believe you, but I believe there is some doubt.
And yet somehow we work.

Us.

But it's not us – at least not only.
Wouldn't we say we work in Him as He works in us?
If both and either ended, we could/would not keep trust.

I sense that you agree and agree that this makes sense.
The "one" of you and me requires the One of Three.
And this is how we work.

Us.

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