Do our hearts beat to different drums?

Were they forged in different fires?

Do our minds together

form far away, unchaotic constellations like stars?

Or are they separate, dark, mysterious realms

of anarchic similarity?

Black holes devouring each other,

and themselves,

like the spark at the start of the world?

Is there a middle ground?

Is it a campfire;

a mystical light in the dark?

Giving heat and light,

and shelter

from the cold light of the day and

the dark night of the soul?

The rhythm of the fire a heartbeat,

its flames, a song.

A story, within a story.

A different tale to tell; a real one

to lock up in your heart,

hold captive in your soul

away from the pretense.