Strings And Things

Fragile, the nature of us, being fashioned
Of flesh or of bone or of both being fastened
And woven together, though temporal being
Through course unexplained and, by force, no one seeing

To conquer, to hunger, to draw ever closer
Impeccable faults like impossible lovers
Unwinding by fate, perhaps, choice being loosened
In turn we are chosen; in pain we are proven

In wearing, like garments, we serve out our purpose
Till death do us part or calamities hurt us
Too easily severed, too short in our lasting
We die without answers and live without asking

Yet in our existing, though brief and unstable
In seeking we dream to be, if we are able
Intwined with another by strings or such things
As God in his love and the meaning it brings