The river brings life, yet all it wants is to seek couch in the darkness. It is the warmth and the tingling, not the drama and mingling, that appeal to it so. Unmoving and still, it is at peace, whilst others rush back and forth, desperately seeking the peak; Only to find it, lose their balance and fall.
There is a magic between some two, a magic that only exists between two that are not the same yet similar enough to look each other in the eye and cry. Two and one, in this sense they are of a third kind: the same. It so happens that sometimes even the simplest of things can have the most profound of effects, if only with the right one, not two, though three is a tiny step yonder.