You were the mirror image of me when we were kind enough to have patience.
Without patience is life barren? Oh, that’s contradictory, isn’t it? Without patience, life becomes overgrown with gray spiny weeds, trees that break and bristle to the touch, and sand spurs that draw blood. Mirror images in tranquil repose look toward each other for peace and solace and perhaps live like these two butterflies do. In a separate but equal space, in peace. And though the wind, should it roar, these two could be swallowed up in a millisecond, it is patience that holds them steady through the rowdy wind. Mirror images find strength in the other.