Doubt

		Two rays're growing up to cross at horizon while squinting the eyes you're looking at light. How lucky am I? On tiptoes rising, touching the shoulder, caught your sight, your arms're stretching up to hold me tight. Lost the balance, almost in trance I'd channel all saints if they show up, fight my loneliness, accepted as right... At loose...do not hurry... remember the moment, when sky opened up at least temporary to channel a comment of doubt...