Convergence.Divergence.

He sits in the sun,
with a pad,a pen and headphones on,
he thinks of a scene,
and then of a song,
he shuffles around,
there's something missing,a scene or a song?
He looks at the world,
then the world of his own,
and doesn't look back,
its better where he belongs.
Then she walks in,
through the trees and the shadows,
with a pad,a pen and headphones on,
she looks around,
Sun touches her skin,
and golden she turns.
She walks on but shuffles,
as if something's missing,a scene or a song?
He looks at her face,
and the scene melts in beauty,
the songs he can write,
and make it so perfect.
He looks at the world,
then the world of his own,
only to look back,
its better where she belongs.
He.

She smiles deep inside,
The day,oh so good it is,
as she walks out of the house,
None walks right past out,
a smile none gives,
like none knows her soul well,
and her day begins.
Then she goes along,bubbly than ever,
and enters the park,
through the trees and the shadows,
with a pad,a pen and headphones on,
she looks around,
Sun touches her skin,
and golden she turns.
She walks on but shuffles,
as if something's missing,a scene or a song?
so she sings along,
to make it so perfect,
like none was hers,
as she dreams of.
She.

He thinks its time,
he must tell her the truth,
and shall ask her if,she thinks he's worth.
And he stands up to walk,
to do what he shall,
or to do what he must.
He walks up to her,
and speaks to her back,
of what he feels,
maybe more than he shall,
and speaks of the scene,
and the song of his heart.
But she turns around,
with tears in her eyes,
and sobs and she runs,
away from the world.
He watches her leave,
he looks at the world,
then the world of his own,
and doesn't look back,
its better where he belongs.

She walks through the lake,
and across the park,

and goes on to watch,the birds flying around.
She turns around the fountain,
only to find it all flip,
as she watches one,kiss none's upper lip.
She sinks into vacuum,
and stands deep in the ground,
when she hears up a whisper,
as if someone speaks behind her back.
Her throat,it goes silent,
and so do her ears,
the only thing that speaks,
are her eyes and her tears.
She turns around and she sobs,
as she sees him standing there,
as if he's waiting for someone,
or maybe waiting to hear.
But she's too numb to judge,
as she runs off away,
away from the park,
like a waste,like a stray,

He still waits in the park,
for her to come and answer,
what made her cry,
or made her run.
She still waits outside her house,
for none to come out,
and to face none's eyes,
to fight,to question,to shout.

Some roads,they are meant,
to go two separate ways,
but they do meet at a point,
before they part ways.
You may say they come and meet there.
You may say they go apart from there.
You may say what seems right,
to you.
For things are meant to be known,
but we all assume.

The story doesn't end,
and it shall go on,
till he shall write,
till she shall mourn.

In the night,before he sleeps,
he thinks of her,
and looks at her picture.
In the night before she sleeps,
she thinks of none,
and looks at none's picture.

Two souls and two hearts,
could meet or could part,
its a pity it didn't work out,
its a pity it didn't work out.