Talking to Strangers

Something in the shape of your face
reminds me of God's gentle love;
A private sign written in your silent grief
assures me what a grand design
this ground beneath us is.

I look around you
moving glances
my humble form of praise
For you, For sure;
  and us New strangers,
and all I do not know.

The script is written,
the stage is set
my secret shame,
the joy of sadness mixed,
The art of life
holding us in perfect place.

Undefeated because I do not dare
To shout out How,
out loud,
how Maybe,
It's O.K. to be happy
with this way things are.

And I don't need
to touch your skin to feel you.
Don't want to make you smile
or even try to understand,
what this means,
or really is.

Embarrassed by all I can not bear,
the fruit of knowledge blushing ripe and ready at my feet.
Where nothings worth, or worse,
 to miss this moment,
How simply beautiful Life is.