Unseen

 'The blessing of God upon grass is shades of green'

a lunatic wrote on the madhouse wall.

I suppose he was hunting for something unseen -

a neat deity to make sense of it all.

The unfelt hand that steers us, the unseen eye that sees,

the caress of the wind as it tickles the leaves,

and sends us off with purpose in our life -

to take a lover, a loan, a life, a break, a wife

and give us a sense that it was meant to be -

another twig the river carried to the sea.

Well, I guess I believe in something unseen too -

that somehow you’ve seen me and I’ve seen you,

that together we can tickle away our grief.

Tonight you are the wind and I’m the leaf.