T h e B e a u t y o f O n e a n d t h e O t h e r
The beauty of one was not the beauty of the other.
Differences and similarities existed but that was
to their advantage. Both gleamed as if sprinkled
with water, both showed flaws and perfections.
What attracted me to one repelled me in the other
and what the eye refused in one was welcomed
in its opposite until (though how this happened
I do not know) both shifted and it was beyond me
to tell them apart. What had I loved, what had I
refused? Who could say. They lay in my hands
gathering the light about them and were equal
to each other. That I could not chose between them
did not bother me. That was the fiction of a mind
to greedy for light to see the auroral dark they celebrated
and emerged from, -much as they now emerge into
their life in this the other world of their redemption.