For all eternity, you are the vine
and, I will always be the branches.
Do my leaves blossom as your fruit ripens?
Does wine pour forth from the fruit that my branches hold?
I am not sure?
For all eternity, I will wonder.
Where does my heart fit into the randomness
of a branch growing on a vine?
Or does it?
Who made the randomness?
Is it the maker of the branch?
I move forward into all eternity
knowing that I will aways be the branches