The Shadow of a Broken Pendulum

Don't search for me anymore—it's been so long!

That day when we sat facing each other at the triangular table in the corner of the coffee shop, crimson light filtered through the frosted glass from behind the trees, falling across your face—crimson, but gentle light.

What if a broken clock's pendulum chimes at the wrong time?
I stare in helpless wonder. You might as well say it—in fear, the fear of losing.

I don't know what apprehension made me restless enough to ask you, "Does God ever long to become human?"
You said, "God lives within humanity!"

I understood then—outwardly we appeared to be two people, yet in spirit we were one and the same.