Both.

She is the sand,

You are walking on,

She is the ground,

Vast enough for everyone,

Yet she knows, to you,

She is a planet set loose,

Colliding with galaxies en-route.

She is the embrace,

Of the ocean-blue,

Against the coldness of the stones.

She is the traces of your choice,

To grow old with her youth,

And she shall walk with you,

Along the distances of time,

While two worlds entwine.

She is the silence of epiphanies,

Exploding in your chest,

She is the vacancy that listens,

To her it makes sense;

The complexity of the pretence,

She is the home,

Your feet walk into.

And she has her scars;

A celebration of what’s past,

A fertile ground and a sign,

That she is still alive,

And she should only breathe,

Her exhales are the clouds.

And he listens,

To the threads of her stories,

He weaves them into her world,

She can see them in the stars,

Glistening with meanings,

And inscrutable wonders.

I see them both,

In figments of my dreams,

And they paint me,

With colours of love,

Till one day,

I speak up,

And show the world,

The magnificence of it all.