Two sundry primes, the same phoneme,
Both being held in great esteem.
The twinkling dawn, the dusk agleam,
Their coalition’s almost a pipe dream.
Congruence works with opposites passim, a voice composed of whisper and some scream
If bridged together with a shim, appears so to take one for the team.
Converging lines fade dim before they shine in the extreme.
At distance rise insurgents to the lim to fuse into a single seam.
Each railway’s way too ramified to limn, its paths are but the same raceme.
At seas of mutual fervour in the swim I, notwithstanding, falsely deem
The liquid ardour has no rim, its seething truly reigns supreme.
Emotional debris all over him, impeding, they are not to bream.
With sentiments all deep albeit slim these murky waters teem.
A whole flamboyant, stable whim, a gasoline-like colour scheme.
Contented to the brim just like the cat that got the cream,
A navy out on a limb romances some uncharted blue, so it might seem.
Full sail ahead, sensate the vim, position yourselves on the beam.
Together, fully fit and trim, drifting no more under one’s steam.
Against or with the flowing stream – it matters not for a bireme.
Make history, use up another ream, it is ongoing like bloodstream.
It wouldn’t hurt to only skim If claws of life carved out your theme.
Should it be blatant or just mim, don’t be afraid to ink another rheme.
Like schizophrenic who denies the sym, the course of nature thou blaspheme,
Refuting stiff its prim though yet well-predisposed regime.