Stems twist and turn as they climb to the sky,
As a wooden stave wraps the vines in time.
Voice is entwined with dance,
For it is at that moment life and death collide in step.

Two souls are given to one another for love,
But with a seed of destruction rooted,
Like a fine braid of will forgotten by the mind.
Thus events unfold as the raging river raced,
To break itself upon the stones in its wake.

Just like night is to day,
Or the moon to the sun.
So does the owl perch on limb,
And the eagle soar above.

Each exist to service the other,
Sharing traits to further its partner.
• by BardicWren