I stand by my back-then words

The sight and the touch of a fiery hand

Brushed against the surface of my straight-from-only-God-knows-where intuition 

Reaching out, did you foresee -as you seem to be able- my fumblings and follies

I choke when I taste and gasp when I smell your handiwork against my handiwork

With incredulous eyes, stunned heart and still-shallow breath, again I say 

“Oh my God…oh my god….”