You are an opera.
I am a street walker.
So how is that we are friends,
that we connect on some level
I don’t understand?
Is it the old opposites attract thing
or is it that way down deep
we share exploratory creative souls
formed out of an ephemeral cosmos?
You are delicate yet rigid.
I am chaotic yet strong.
How is it that my simmering hurricane
doesn’t snuff out your sweet breeze?
I see us as two trains running on
the same track from opposite directions.
How is it that we don’t crash and burn?
How is it that we can even see each other
in the twilight of the distance?
We both struggle as unsung writers
crafting words in our separate universes,
creating wildly divergent narratives
for what reason we can only wonder.
Is that the glue, the light?
Or are we alone, maybe bored
and reaching out to the opposite voice,
just to hear words in the wilderness?
StoryGirl 