Miracles are real. I've found. 

they don't just stand sedately by the door, knock politely, no they soar 

in with a gust of wind, they sweep you off your feet they hound 

your every step so there is not a woman on earth who could ignore 

that you stand on common ground. 

Another world, another life, another age, or page of the book, but still 

he may be you inside, it leaves me terrified that look in your eyes that I know is in mine

standing on common ground. 

Easier to quietly read novels in the dark, living invisible lives that no one shares 

than to dare into that blinding day, the piercing searchlight of being understood 

on common ground