We have been sibling and best friend,
Made each other smile in the end
As we keep on moving through time.
"Damn time," you say. "There's neither rhyme
Nor reason to this division."
The indifferent precision
Of the universe is austere,
And can make it hard to steer
The ship of one's own soul aright
Through the heavy, turgid night
That drags against low-riding hulls,
And its Siren song that lulls
Us into staying in the port,
Taking no risk and no retort.
But a quiet disquisition
Would lead us to a resolution
Between time and tide, and what pulls
And pushes between bears and bulls.
We would no longer feel the stress
That thrusts us under hard duress.
We would just have our just-so tales,
The kneaded wind to fill our sails.
We would set sail into the sun,
Knowing that time had just begun.