We are always seeking each other.
Always.
At coffee shop,
On the open pages of websites,
After each weird ringtone of
a new text on the phone,
inside closed room,
outside in a very floral
printed world.
Searching is hard. Finding harder.
*
In each status update, in
each smiling profile picture,
there hides a blurry image,
covered with niceness,
paint-brushed, tweaked,
re-engineered, surviving
the identity loss, trying to
mend old wounds,
to start once again.
*
There’s light somewhere,
to love, to recover,
to balance between the two,
to reveal the cold
from the inside out
and change to warmth.
We’re like sun-dried
clay-pots, sometimes,
happy at each beginning,
clueless thereafter.
*
It’s spring.
And life is awful if we don’t have
a best friend, or a mirror image
of our truth, waiting somewhere.
This search doesn’t have to end.
**
This post is for a friend who started searching new friends in a new world, and shared that experience with me. I realized, I had to write something about people in the contemporary world, connected and networked yet alone, seeking older meanings of bonds in newer ways.
A Journey Called Life ... 