Four times a day they meet
at zero hour, full zenith, dawn and dusk.
Each has a path of their own
where they embody all they are at full power
Until they must meld again with their opposite.
Slowly creeping toward the other
somewhat leery, somewhat eager.
When they meet, there is a crash
and a long slow whimper
simultaneously.
How can it be both?
How can they be so ambiguous?
Because in their hold
there is fire and ice
there is absence and all consuming power.
It was a moment of joy and wrath
they looked forward to with trepidation
yet also with desire.
It is a dance like no other
It is a dance never the same twice.
They dance just like lovers.
And the only people who see it
are the guardians.
mspeachierocks 