We are the map

We are the lines that meet at dawn 
a farmer’s call, a poet’s song,
A child’s laugh in a crowded street,
each note a thread in a tapestry sweet.

We wear our colors like the sky:
indigo nights and amber light,
each shade a story, deep and bright,
no two the same, yet all aligned.

We are the rivers that converge,
eroding walls with gentle surge 
our differences, a bridge, not a divide,
our shared breath, a current wide.

When storms rage loud and shadows rise,
we link our hands beneath the skies,
for in our bond, we find our might:
a single flame, burning bright.

We are the map of what could be 
not just me, not just thee,
but we a world stitched heart to heart,
forever whole, never to part.
Would you like me to write another one with a more specific focus, like unity in a community or during hard times?