It's you that I see in my visions, your total imperfect beauty that is truly perfect.

A perfect decision, a taste of precision, my strong beautiful black man, and my sweet, black and beautiful sister.

A problem to societies arithmetic would rather label my heart, to split it in two and divide my soul which has unconditional belief in you.

But, with every heart that mends, I hold my belief in you that your heart is infinitive, that our bond is self-evident and that a label that is less, is not greater than the stand we stand together.

A vision of imperfection, you are my vision.  A light of hope, you are my vision, you are my black man, my black sister standing with me in whole beauty.

A grace period he gave me as well as you to eventually get it right.  A grace period when he told you, you got it right.

So what if this world doesn't understand how you got it right and they are annoyed, pissed and uptight!

A solution to the problem of the arithmetic stood beside you and I, and allowed our acceptance of his Grace by adding and multiplying his abundant blessings.

I see your beauty, I see his inner beauty in you, they ask how, you say his Grace adds and multiplies and they ask how high, you say, his Grace is done by or made with man-made division, but, by adding and multiplying his abundant blessings, you too, could eventually get it right, and be blessed with his ray of beauty.

Division, divides and takes away, his truth only adds and multiplies.

Copywritten, 2001 by Rosalyn R Walker