Icicles

We begin a pair of modest beads:
Formless and fluid,
One would consume the other
If our paths ever crossed.

We stand apart, and in time take form;
We grow into nubs,
Hardened by persistence and experience,
We are rooted, unable to meld.

Time passes, and we are stressed;
Molded by the heat of trials,
Reinforced by cool, dogged perseverance
To adhere to life and endure.

Each trial adds to our forms,
Each bead of sweat, a length to our character.
We find ourselves more defined:
No longer nubs, but pillars hanging closer together.

We continue to grow in our ways,
And in time we grow together:
Our experiences allow us to meld,
Our familiarity grants us compassion.

At last we become as one:
Two solid entities bound together.
Nourishing and supporting the self and other,
We push onwards as long as life endures.