A Saturday Extra Riff

Two worlds colliding,

Fire and Ice,

No wonder there is often trouble,

Misunderstanding and mayhem.

Agendas battling for supremacy.

We shamble into the arena,

Punch drunk boxers blinking in the bright lights,

Clunking about, tripping over our well-intentioned feet.

He steps in with poise and delicate purpose,

Nuanced, with a multi-layered, many-faceted script.

And so we begin, not so much a battle,

But a clumsy dance routine,

Attempting to pick up the steps,

At times closer than breathing,

At others barely daring to touch.

For lengthy periods keeping our distance,

Sheltering in our corner,

For fear we should be hurt or disappointed,

Misled or outmanoeuvred.

Two worlds colliding,

Fire and Ice.

People and the Great Designer.

Us and The Three.

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