Bound once in a true love
tied up with your illusion that it was the only love
when in fact there was something true r still
awaiting you in time, you took the rebound
and justified it, sealed it forever along
with your heart meant for me.

I realized too late I had 
mistimed my jump into what we call reality,
this world we spin with for a time that is 
less real than all our hearts have known
outside the bond of time. I watched you
play the game and let it be, trusting 

One day you would awaken from the dream,
turn, turn, remember me. You saw perhaps 
the error of your thinking and sought to unbind
yourself, but only partially. And so there
was the further wounding of your heart with
all the ties that bind and leave you bound.

Determined to break free, nevertheless,
you began the unraveling, of necessity, and I
am bound to see, because this is how God 
gifted me —though I scarcely find it gift
in seeing this: the way you think you
are bouncing back, but only catching

Another rebound in one in whom you choose
to see the world. I roll free, just another
bouncing ball in reeling world of rhythm and
repetition. To you I am not even a blip
on your field of vision, and you do not
understand the quantum nature of

Who we are and why we chose to be.
You and me, held in this basket of time,
grow old, awaiting the providence of God
and our response to Spirit's call to think
bigger than scoring points in life and love,
pretense, heartache, and basketball. 

Rebound and lost again to me, you
and your choices seem a zero-sum game,
an endless repetition of trauma turned inward,
a perpetual recycling of the same old shame.
There is a field of grace and I know the way.
Let it go, love. I'll meet you there to play.