How Could It Be That God Drew You?

A Poem by A Britto

If the wisest of men--with a life's devotion--

Sought for the finest of the world's beauties,

And attending to every droplet in the ocean,

Came upon you (as do marveled tourists),

They would concur despite disputing duties:

That of all beauties, yours is truest.

“Could she be outshone?” one would say,

“Outdone by none most devotional of creeds?

Perhaps the blossom that breeds a seed?”

“Nay, greater beauties are there to weigh,

Consider the poise of underlying notions,

As too the flutter that potions motion.”

“Let's not forget the nightingales' croon,

And majestic feats done from picayune,”

“As too each kiss two lips can give,

Besides the dreams one seeks to live . . .”

“Nah! We can through these beauties sieve,

But they'd be stars and she the moon.”

“What of the oeuvres of a genius' elation,

Or the hidden secrets of imagination?”

“And the enkindling life that's born anew,

Or lifelong friends one counts so few!”

“Indeed those beauties you must deem true,

But her creation evinces a God's vocation.”

And on they'd go with their specious sway,

To conclude their fray with noncore delay:

“Indeed it seems we must agree,

That in spite of all that we came to see,

She's the reason why the world wonders,

Wherefore life swings its gripping mysteries

Why (spell-under) we wallow in our histories,

And why a poet sings and a child blunders.

“Though many beauties fill this world,

Wherewith days of years it has twirled,

They are but sinners before a jurist;

For of all beauties, hers is purest.

“Oh, the two who could perhaps compete,

Now see their beauties as obsolete,

As a veil of deceit falls as an eclipse

Upon the face that launched a thousand ships.

And the other's deeds so immoral and flighty