We are
one but we are
not. You reflect the
image that I project,
yet we are not the
same. We are
pens
that
are limited, and are taught
to perpetuate stories only with blank
papers; stars that are gifted with
ethereal shine, but upon its
acceptance, the clouds
inevitably create
a demarcation.
It screams a rule
that stars may only fall for
wishes, and not to gift their innate
shine to another star. The sun screams
that two ends of polychromatic rainbows
may not meet in order to preserve the treasures.
But I stand before you, a similar image of you. We
are unfathomable depths but with divergent trenches.
Everyday we hear the
sun scream, and I say
do not fear its flare.
For in love we are
free, and in love
we are both
limitless.
We are
free.