this may be as close as some people ever come, to a connection with another living being
Life contains within itself a strange lack of perspicuity;
We are all strangers by default,
But become sworn enemies by contagion-
Like unknown varieties of some strange new weed,
Considered better left unidentified, and at a distance,
But thought rancorous and deep-seated, if found closer:
Something to be eradicated at the root,
Our grief only a minor wind, outside the tempest;
For all our souls are just holes,
That we never knew hope of filling.
You are so right about this concept. Some of us still have those holes in our soul and keep searching for ways to fill them. Thank you for sharing this my friend. Hugs David