You rejoice, you cry, you fear, you rant, you tire.
you scream, you laugh, you whisper.
Eyes open, eyes closed.
No one hears.
There is a savior.
There is a solution.
A poem, a thought, a feeling.
Written a million years ago, written today.
Dream-er, pray-er, you finally found the path.
You walk hand in hand with your great great great great grandma,
saying everything you wished you could but never had a way to.
She listens, you walk, you think together, as a unit.
You stand up and brush away the dust on your knees.
The dirt never seems to stop collecting in this attic,
trying to wipe the words from the pages
like time wiping the earth clean.
But it never wins.
You fold the old poem and tuck it in your pocket
Your precious liaison to the soul mate you never met.