The Imperfection of Symmetry
There’s an unsettling symmetry
between you and me
that can’t be broken
by actions made or words spoken
How I want, in truth, to make you
different, but you
mimic all my ways
and all my thoughts without delay
Our movements make an awful feat
for when you retreat
I just do the same
then we each cast around the blame
How love mocks what we envisage!
Our mirror image
should bring us delight
yet it plagues loving thoughts with fright!
Are we condemned to second-guess
and thus make a mess
of what we’re given
even though we now behold heaven?