She tells herself often, she’s a lucky girl
He has included her in his gift
His I has become We
His vision is of them
Success is not singular
Plural thoughts travel through his mind like bands of waves crossing a vast sea
Always moving
Always incompessing
His ideas transform into their realities
She is his balance in the chaos
His ataxia brought to simplicity, to focus, to calm
She is lucky to live up to his ambition
The past could not maintain the balance
Could not soothe his attention, against adequate nature, labeled as disorder
She was lucky
Lucky to have crossed paths with art
Searching for different amongst familiar
Frustrated and covered by her equals
He was inequality
Luck brought by the net he inhabits
Covered in psuedonames and darkness
He emerged like the sun after a devastating hurricane
Hope surrounded by diaster
Walking over pieces of her past, damaged by tossed stones of the inhabitants before, his sun felt safe
He encouraged her to use the discards to create beauty
He created for her
Lucky girl…
Alex S.
alexonlove.com 