Time is always moving us along. It's a gentle hand pushing on our back, feet slick from the ice beneath us, being ushered into the night and day again and again. Along the way we are ever changing, falling in and out of each other in a winding current that rises and falls like our emotions are the tides, and your waves crash upon the shore, only to be brought back out to sea by my undertow. I will keep you in your home, your vastly growing and expanding home, brought back to me through the undertow. But when high tide turns to low, we see the beauty of what lays beneath our bones, and our bones are the jagged rocks that line the shores, being worn smooth by the other waves that push and prey upon our exposed rock faces. As we wear away, our skin grows thicker. Our thoughts dampen. We last out against the ever growing tides less and less. We grow into ourselves. We grow into each other. Reserved, but indestructible.