The two have never become one,
And were never meant to be.
One needs their own life, in spite of the others.
As well as one or two, so do three.
Their lives are llike climbing roses,
Each separate vines yet intertwined.
When one branches out on a different path,
The others must adjust their climb.
And so is it not the way of this world?
Our lives intersecting like lines on a map.
Yet we aren't given an established direction.
Moving in an unpredictable race of infinite laps.
I am not one, but many.
I evolve from events I've endured.
The past, my foundation, keeps me grounded.
The future, my fruition, not ignored.
And you must be who you are.
One to others, someone else to me.
All relationships constantly developing.
Dependent connections providing stability.
So, yes, the two have surely become one,
Weaving in more threads throughout time,
Creating a chord of combined strands
Tangled and strightened in an unbroken line.