River, Ebb and flow

                                                                                                                                                                      
They held both hands as they took the rave,
To when the pyres within ignited.
Though one cowers and one is brave,
The least of heads presided.
Then took a turn while a hand detached,
The gaze transferred in parallel.
Wondered why he couldn’t move back,
Like cobs separate from kernels.
The interim paved the way to another,
That latched the stare to stare in sync.
Now both were made to be a bother,
To love another love at brink.
If love can be at its truest,
Then why can birds both fly and rest?
How can man both wake and sleep?
Why can there be better and best?
The author knows no valid reason,
On why these things are as so.
Confused by how the beats resemble,
Of river, ebb and flow.