Puddles Of Solidarity; Petals Of Discord; Silver Mirrors; Two Wars

On opposite sides of a blossoming tree of pink, one stood, one sat;

Rain clouds gathered in the sky thundered and glowed, droplets thick and fat;

Feet encased in sandals, upon the grey, clear pools, they splashed;

Reflections of black boots, within the wet mirror, clashed.

Shadows of one another, dark hair rippled towards the right;

Faded curls drawn to the left, he walked forward in the light.

The cascade made the petals fall, soft, fragile, a fleeting life;

Both clasp their hands around the damp mauve, death slashing with a knife.

Warriors, compatriots, a friendship bloomed aeons ago;

The enemy, the crows from the heavens, chipped away the bond in one go;

Two halves of the same heart, one died, one forgot how to breathe;

Images washed away by the downpour, the destroyed sheathe.

One beast, dead, continued to resist; the second self, listless, slept dormant;

Killers of each other, never forgot how to growl, adamant;

One-half volcanic, consuming all, the other flickered, ragingly blue;

Hatred shackled them, the chains had a strange hue;

The first half, a reservoir of pain for the second;

Eyes dulled over a decade, and new friends beckoned.

The migratory ravens returned, the brilliant flame and the silver candle turned whole;

A greater fire, an immortal soul;

Smiles and tears entwined, endless arrows and stab they could bear;

In the face of one’s demise, the other could grin, not tolerating the floods of many a year.

They witnessed horrors, their essence could never be of gold;

Silver, the thread connecting life and death… Undying till eternity turns old.