She is O.
She is yin.
She is hollow and empty.
She is the darkness and cold of space.
She is infinity.
She is the vastness of the ocean,
its frosty, salty waves licking the air
with foamy tongues.
She is a warm, wet womb,
a protector of all within
her castle walls.
She is a vessel, a receptacle,
a cage,
a treasure chest,
holder of secrets,
a mystery.
He is l.
He is yang.
He is solid and full.
He is the light and warmth of Earth.
He is finite.
He is the length and width of a peninsula,
jutting out into the ocean and sea,
an interruption of the natural flow of the Earth’s waters.
He is a violator,
An army at the fort gates waiting out the siege.
He is a blade, a probe,
a key to the cage,
to the treasure chest,
a revealer,
a prophet.
I am lO.
I am the juncture of yin and yang.
I am complete and done.
I am the universe itself, spinning in a radiant swirl.
I am the process of rebirth.
I am the intemperate beach,
my sandy borders edging along both water and land,
changing always as they rub against each other.
I am the child,
the weak, the innocent created in nothing,
by the violation of something,
the sacrificial lamb,
the savior.
I am the locked away item,
the stowed away treasure,
the prisoner,
the secret.
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