Told in Tandem with the Woodsman
He comes in like the tide. Steady and strong. Crashing upon my shore in a beautiful rhythm. The warmth of his love coats all my grains, soaking in before flowing back into the ocean of depth that is him.
With each return he carries a little of me back with him. My tiny crystals of love. I see them swirling in his waters, twisting and turning with his churning. Until there is a calm. And they settle, slowly creating a foundation.
Sand isn’t the best metaphor for a foundation. But sand turns to rock given enough time and pressure.
A rock of my being; she’s there. Not getting worn down by my tidal inner self, but standing strongly, quietly, boldly accepting my nature. And feeling how that nature of my being isn’t a harsh…
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