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there are seven billion of us here
crawling over taking the earth so many yet there are many who feel alone it makes me wonder me like one of the billions of stars in one large expanding galaxy separate yet part of a whole but not seeing it until a supernova obliterates but not the silence space has no noise loneliness does it is the ticking of a clock echoing it is the thrumming hum of the refrigerator and in the drone of stranger's voices on the television all of them mechanical leaving us to feel our differentness the passage of time and those who are no longer here what of the seven billion they are not here somewhere out there in their own separate universe why is it then that there is an inheritance of such great loneliness this pandemic of grieving and grief when we share so much more than not differences so miniscule you can count them in molecules this is what my heart says to me how it informs me when I look into the faces of others none the stranger than me who do you see when you gaze into a mirror I see me multiplied into seven billion faces I believe in random acts of kindness it is a necessity written from the originating thought directly to the page legal copyright for this work/poem and also for this writer Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World I trust all is well for you in your universe... January 24 2018/9:55pm PST written on the eve of my paternal Grandfather's birthday and for all of those few in my life that matter to me Vote for this poem |
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