Divinity Of Sorts Poem by M. A Heathcote

Aren't we blessed with the divinity of sorts?
Isn't life following a sort of grand design?
Love your love, isn't it a divine divinity?
For me to take as mine, extort
Full payment - what is rightfully mine in kind?

Love isn't just some rosy cul-de-sac.
Nor is it a brief roll in the haystack.
Followed by a momentary lapse -
Of memory, a confession, I'm an amnesiac:
Love is a divinity of sorts, well, perhaps.

You don't believe me? Well, take a good look.
Look outside, and gaze in wonderment and awe.