at long last

at long last my love
we pull our pens
to prove one woven poem us
two halves made one seems proof divine
but God no such math exists

but faith
walks arm in arm with
only time
winding hand by hand us intertwined
you and me two
halves, of course,
one,
time believes itself and, two,

believing you
believing me
is one half
the battle won by love: us
plotting, plodding
onward into only our hands
only time ticking

revealing we
woven poems at long last
proof

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