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Poem

There are but a few peole who touch your life and change it. 
You yourself hold far more power to change than to be changed. 
So, we enter into and walk out of peoples lives as ripples on a pond,
Effectual for only a moment, 
However long that may be. 
Perceptions, fears and emotions change regularly, 
Like butterflies brushing air with their wings. 
Whispers in the trees at night.
We don't even think about it, 
We don't feel we need to know.
One thing that can be assumed is that everyone is lonely deep down. 
Some recognise it,
Others are afraid of it. 
But, most find ways to deal with it. 
There are two types of loneliness in life; 
The emptiness in the heart of someone who has loved and lost,
And the unforfilled searching of someone who has never quite found what they are looking for. 
In truth everyone is resigned to solitude in some small way, 
Since no one can truely know another's mind, 
Or truely share another's emotions. 
We are isolated by the pure humanity that makes us need to fill the void. 
The beautiful irony of yet another flawed human emotion, 
Not laid out on the hearts and minds of millions, 
Like love and hate, 
But tucked into a tiny courner to whimper in the night and nag at the bearers soul. 
In general, wholey unnoticed, 
But, in part, 
A hollow echo of the longing to be truely understood and empethised with by a fellow man.
Lonesomeness, 
A guiding social light, 
An unforfilled quest,
And, most of all, a part of all human nature.

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