They were made for this, their union
forming worlds under each other’s fingertips.
From her he is made, hands shaping
the curl of his form - What he is to become.

Their conflict shakes the cradle of the Earth,
Her hand ever stronger, wearing him down
Until he is soft beneath her feet.

She loves like a wave, crest after crest
of boundless emotion, tempestuous and fluid
Yet he is her anchor, the port in the storm
The lone cliff against her ardour.

His love is sharp like a knife
and hard like stone, he breaks
and fractures beneath her touch
but stands firm in his worship.

She ebbs and flows from him,
Leaving his side for stranger shores,
But always returning to the point of their union,
The dance eternal and old as the Earth.

One day she will swallow him whole,
And he will be nothing more than sand,
Her sigh the kiss of the surf,
His heart the tear of a mountain.