In the real world,
particulars matter —
inches and angles,
proportion and timing,
and, of all the people
you could have been with,
who it actually is.
In real love,
particulars matter,
but they are not metered or weighed
like exacting alchemical recipes.
Instead, each of these
very idiosyncratic things
becomes an astonishing bright point,
a hitherto unimagined
touch of perfection
that had to be so —
just precisely the way it is.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 5, 2014
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