Two men lay, rowing in a boat.
Try hard as they may,
They toiled in vain,
In making it float,
In any particular way.

They were in the throes of despair,
Their wooden craft, in the water traced only circles fair.

They were twins.
One was dark.
The other was fair.
And that was the only difference there.

They were in the throes of despair,
Their wretched craft merely traced circles fair.

The water was as placid as placid could be.
Then what was the cause of their misery?

Had somebody seen them,
The reason would have been pretty plain.
‘They are but fools!’, would have been the refrain.

Both were rowing with all their might,
But to their despair and providence’s delight,
Each was rowing in a direction different.

It was but a tug of war.
The twins matched each other in power.

The wooden craft went nowhere,
It traced in the water circles fair.
They were both deaf.
They were both blind.

To each other.
Unaware. Alone.

So as each cursed…

The wooden craft went nowhere,
It traced in the water circles fair.