I AM OF THE DESERT, YOU OF CULTIVATION

 I am of the desert, you of cultivation:

Simplicity to me, to you is desolation;

Heat, thirst, and agony I seek out on vacation,

While you look for elegance and quiet restoration.

I am of the ocean, you are of the shore:

You want fewer waves, I manufacture more;

You like tranquil bays, I love the rollers’ roar;

In me, a wild emptiness; in you, a quiet core.

While I am like a stream, you are like a lake:

I babble over boulders, you reflections make;

I rush forward heedlessly, as bones and branches break;

You part before the piercing bow and then absorb the wake.

That such extremes should not be mingled might seem elementary;

But love can make the wildest contradictions complementary