Reintroduce yourself to the things that you love the most
To the things that love you the way you remember
Re-invite yourself to the things you've met time and time again with a degree higher than grace
This isn't the first time you've met, the last time you'll meet, or the only chance you'll get
This is a dance
Whether you have two left feet or half of a toe means nothing to the spirit of the heart that moves in you
You don't even have to know how to dance, but that you move
And you will know the meaning of the rhythm that chants through the undertones of the feet that pound the pavement
Of the paces that count your steps by the dozens
Because you can't even tell if the feet that count your steps even know how to count
Or that one really is just "one"
More like "again", or "this way", or "how do you do" in one
Either way seems fine, it's either all the same or a refined step in the end
Pressed fresh and thorough like a winepress full of olden grapes
Ready to be transformed into something new, completely ignorant of its old nature
But we'll begin at grace
And turn around to revel in the newness of what seems to know itself as life
Because at least then we can turn our eyes away
Fully close them and begin to trust, something grace wouldn't know about
Then trust picks up where grace left off
Dutifully rescuing its unbelievers from the grips of fate
And those left to cling by the lint of grace's cloak
Only to find we've reentered the winepress but with fresh eyes
To dance once more and all over again
Counting "one" as "hello", "welcome", and "well met"
All the way down until hello's become goodbye's
and welcome's become thank you's
and "well met" with teary eyes
All because we've re-introduced ourselves
To the love of our lives.
