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RHYME XXIV

Two red tongues of fire
on the same log that approach
and connect, and when kissing
form a single flame.

Two notes of a lute
plucked simultaneously by a hand,
that meet each other in space
and harmoniously embrace.

Two waves that come together
to die on a beach
and when breaking are crowned
with a silver plume.

Two shreds of vapor
that rise off a lake,
and when reunited in the sky
form one white cloud.

Two ideas that sprout as a pair,
two kisses that explode at the same time,
two echoes that are confused,
those are our two souls.