Nights Like This

Nights like this remind me that life is a miracle. When certain death turns tragedy into smiles And broken bones mend and turn into healed distances I realize that God, or Mother Earth, or the Universe Whoever the hell finds beauty in things as miniscule as humanity Must be a poet. So they can wrap hearts in metaphors and fate in chains They must enjoy death as much as I enjoy life The beauty of uncertainty certainly overtakes reality Nights like this remind me that God, or Mother Earth, or the Universe Whoever the hell finds some kind of purpose behind the random wandering of the human race Must be a poet. Who else could write tragedy into a comedy like she did?