Floodgates. (Poem)

She the artist and He the architect.
For every way they are the same
One can name three ways they are different.
Her energy akin to an ocean, uncontrollable and vast, unsettled on the surface, harboring the greatest of monsters in her darkness.
His presence like complex architecture, he has built himself up to resemble a structure of metal and stone.
His height is impressive, his surface composed of clean straight lines, but within him is a maze of dark twisting tunnels, and mystery doors.
Her disposition, soft. Fluid. Raging. Ever-changing.
His demeanor, firm. Strong. Meticulous. Ever-evolving.
Both terrifying at a distance, even more-so up close.
Their respective irresolute natures does not ease the threat and discomfort created by the ambivalence of others
And so they resist love, in their own ways
He, by closing his steel doors on those who try to enter without permission
She, by drowning those who dare to venture into her depths
An unusual pairing, the energy their friendship creates is an enigma
Her waters surround his framework, her waves smashing against his exterior.
He could easily seal his entrances, and turn off the lights until she passes, like architects before him
but instead He makes room for the unfamiliar
He grounds himself, opens his doors
allowing every wave to flow through him
She, a welcome but cautious guest
pours through, navigating his interior
exploring room after room
admiring the stained glass windows depicting love and loss
the sound of powerful music filling his corridors
echoing stories he’ll never tell
she learns which doors to push up against
and respects those that are not yet ready to open
knowing that the ends they both have experienced are many, and the beginnings few
they accept one another as they are.
He doesn’t question why She has lost her transparency
doesn’t ask why She is murky with distrust
He never asks why She doesn’t sit still
She doesn’t question the dead-end hallways, the two-way mirrors, and stairs that lead nowhere
She, cognizant of waters ability to corrode, withdraws carefully
leaving parts of her with him for safe keeping
He, knowing what he is made of and knowing he is built to withstand
simply leaves the door open
not forcefully drawing her in, but never pushing her out
they co-exist peacefully
a harmonious collective of differences
He teaches her the value of rigidity where it matters most
the boundaries that can keep her contained, and calm
He teaches her to listen, to observe, understand
She reminds him of the parts of him that can soak through, and may bend but never break
admiring his incredible capacity for growth
The weight of her waves will never topple him
His solid structure will never hinder her movement
perhaps there is freedom in intimacy after all

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