This is she
She is an ocean. When the sun is shining above her, it is day, when the stars are in the skies, it is night. She follows the call of the tides. She houses colorful worlds and wondrous life. She is soft and warm, turbulent and wild. She is the song of a sailor and a whale. She is the whistling of the wind, the coral of the reefs, the groaning of the ships, the squawking of the sea-gulls. She flows closer and ebbs away. She is immensely deep, a lap in which you can sink your thought-filled head for a while.
This is he
He is a river. Outlined in a wondrous landscape, he walks through cities, villages, fields and woodlands, over rocks, clay and sand. Pebbles, thrown by a child, rhythmically jump over him. His whistling in worn away curves is in harmony with the wind in the trees and the animals in the meadows. He is sweet. Now slow, then quick, he carves himself like a melody in the landscape. Now and then, he overflows the river banks and destroys everything in his path. In his destruction, he leaves an echo of grief and loss. He ripples, washes and winds, swirls and steals. He is a waterfall of sound and a lake of silence.
This is them
They meet each other in the river mouth, they blend, they whirl, they collide, they are either fresh or salt or fresh and salt. Their silent junction is a commitment. They sing their adventures and stories to each other. They hum about joy and love, about hate and madness, about life and death. They hum a harmonious greeting or a dissonant farewell. Their veins devour each other in the delta pool. They breach dams, not to be lonely and to unite their music. The spectators on the pier and the embankments see a fantastic spectacle and are drawn by ocean and river.
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