We, are like street lamps. Perched; fixed distances from each other, helpless and unable to ever make contact. Perched, by the heavy burden of definitions of self, and demography. Heavy, are these burdens, and heavy, is my heart. Not unless the wind would gush with such intensity, that my very foundation would break, or yours perhaps? That you(I) would fall, but only to a point that i will grasp hold of you; catch you, and we would be one. A singular being, a singular mindset - not the same mindset, definitely, but the great array of eternal beauty, when two opposing forces collide. Shades of blue, and shades of red. Shades of green, and shades of yellow. Lights. Balance.