Some wonder; are we Nath-et, or am I Nath-el?
Are we each as raindrops, or one ocean swell?

Two eyes, two ears, two hands, a tongue,
Antennae, toes, mandibles and the lung:

Are these the windows to a single soul,
Or a living mirror to reflect our whole?

The finger running down my back:
A warm reminder of our nearness.

The still of stars in the black:
Hints of young captains, fearless.

The rustle rustle rustling snack:
Recall hinka's sweetness, peerless.

Waving away at teary eyes turned back:
Our fondest farewells are ever yearless.

There are no puppets, no hidden strings,
Only the wild winds that lift all wings.

-Grek Lockwood