I don't like to discuss luck
it cheapens a thing as if it could belong to anyone,
that it just hangs there without holy ordination
and is just as happy to give itself to the wicked
as it is to be cherished by the good.

You use luck to describe the flip of a coin
or the procession of cards as they lie upon the table
things that have no substance or meaning
and are wisps of smoke in the vapid service of chance.

Therefore,

that I know the scent of your skin is hardly the offspring of luck.

When the absence of heaven was given its light
and life burst forth among the infinite wonder
our spirits held tight their celestial hands
swearing binding oaths to seek one another for eternity
no matter the inches, yards, or years it may take.

We fought with abandon
through the melee of possibility and chance
calling out tirelessly
until the mountains and the valleys
rang with the resonance
and we arrived just south of

here.

Here where in spite of miles
I feel your fingers.

I hear your voice.

I taste your lips.

My only desire
is to see you live happily.

Until we slip the covetous grasp of earth
and are once more bright
in the eyes of
God.