You came to me one morning
your nose dripping wet with rain.
We didn't recognize the pattern,
our lives would never be the same.
We are caught in what we create,
tempting us to call it fate.
No need to complicate it--
You were too young, you were too late.
The pattern of the web, you see,
is asymmetrical symmetry,
chaotic harmony of destiny,
entwining in a web
of choices we've already made.
And an undefined need keeps us spinning.