Two start as one, held by clasping hands
like roots of ancient trees and sweet memories
that linger in the breeze
as whispering dreams gently tease
in tandem—near and far
—as the wind sways the grass
they become two in the looking glass.
One grows taller and stronger
the other, softer and slower
knowing eyes steady with a glance
as one's pulling force takes its only chance
their strong embrace sustaining the dance
as distance grows and shrinks
—in perfect, loving duality
and the heart evolves in a thousand blinks
—lulled by the purest vitality
they climb, diverge, and sync
awoken as two with hands still clasped,
as words are held and praises sung,
and footprints pursue ethereal sounds
of beckoning chimes—
as they both look back, oftentimes
to glimpse—forever and more—
the unwavering gaze of it all.