Stone Circle Life alone makes me shake

But shadow and light were bound inextricably, two sides of the same golden coin; where one flitted the other soon followed. Perhaps they sensed it, the two of them, and were drawn to this meeting by forces much older than the ground they stood on. Or maybe it didn't mean anything; maybe it was chance that brought them here, chance and stilted good intentions that sometimes passed for kindness, and the small hope, carried around like house keys, that maybe it was possible to make a difference. To take up space in a way that was meaningful for someone else, too.
Reverie felt, then, that Crowfeather made his offer not only for her but for himself. Not because she was special, or because he wanted something from her. He wore his sadness like consumption, like a wasting disease written into his skin, and because he could not shed his own sickness he reached for hers. It was almost like her; it was almost like running. But where she sought freedom, he sought...
What did he seek? To help, yes, but what did that give him? She suddenly needed to know, more than she needed to breathe. Can I ask you a personal question? Her voice was soft. In her fascination she forgot even to thank Crowfeather for his kindness. She wanted more than friendship from him, now; she wanted to pick him apart and compare all the ways they were different and all the ways they were the same. Like all things involving Reverie it came quick and boundless, a burst of intensity where there was only a vacuum before, but this time she didn't question it. She didn't want to.