Poetry

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At the best of times
  I've felt lonely.
 
I feel it now...
 
I see myself
  unheard,
    misunderstood,
      unsupported,
        opposed,
          alien.
 
Then I look at You, in this world.
  You were
    unheard,
      misunderstood,
        unsupported,
          opposed,
            alien.
 
I feel what I feel being human,
  no choice on my part.
 
You chose to be human.
  A man.
 
    Lonely.
 
Your friends could do nothing about it.
  They also chose not to.
 
Your love made You human,
  made You lonely.
    You cried out on a lonely cross.
 
I only cry in my room.
 
I could love You,
  to be like You.
So it will mean loneliness,
  for a time, on earth.
 
You were lonely like me,
  You embraced it.
In love, could I do the same?
  Is this where loneliness fits?
 
What will I know?
Who will I know?
  Here is what the Answer
    gives my loneliness:
 
Purpose.
 
© 12-10-09
 

Note: You will find this to be a poetic form of the message found in the following article.

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