His fingers folded paper,
hers held pens,
He was a good pretender,
she was, looking for friends,
They saw the same sunrises but never together,
He was a rock, she a feather,
But when they were,
It felt like holy blur,
In time they would be unbound by all but 2 cords,
In the end, they were just a stack of reports,
In the end, yes that’s the curious part of course,
In the bardos, intermission? Divorce
Faithful Fractals: Poetic Prayers 