Travelers

The legs of our journeys intersected
At first at once, then again in surprise.
It wasn’t until we ran parallel
That I discovered the truth in our paths;
That we would only cross and come close
And, like asymptotes, we’d always be
Just that much apart and nothing else.
This wasn’t some terrible revelation.
We’re not ourselves.
We are each other.
A yin/yang dichotomy.
To intersect, but never to converge.
Convergence would dissolve we into me;
Us into I.
Better to have some adventures apart
And have new tales to tell
Than be stuck forever, miserable
And traveling the same
Agreed-upon road.

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Lay an Egg

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