Did it really show that we were heavenly bodies
Soulmates on a celestial plane
Forever compatible to our dying days
Or did I let the imagery and the initiation lead me on
Was it simply blue-black Pelikan ink splashed on velum paper
Folded and pressed to give an indication of lifelong symmetry
Yet it was not of course an exact duplication
For the forces of time and the dynamics of fluidity
Took their chance to make minuscule
Though not insignificant changes
Just as the plum tree try as it might
Cannot evenly balance its foliage
Having early on in its life suffered a terrible misfortune
Where its parent fell over and died
Leaving the young sapling to fend for itself
To lean away from the prevailing wind
To find the place where the sun shines the brightest
For the longest hours of each and every day
That I might understand this
From the science of horticulture
Does nothing to take away the fascination
Or the intrigue of that one particular inkblot moment
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