Connected

Quiet.

Except the constant “plugged in” pitch.

Connected to… what?

Everything.

Yet many times

We feel alone,

It may be crowded

But we’re lone.

Togetherness cannot be seen,

It isn’t what it often seems.

But it’s a bridge between two hearts,

It is a light tearing the dark,

A bond that can’t be broken off,

A house built on a solid rock.

It’s something deep

That makes you fly

Across the feelings’ joyful sky.

It’s something to be longing for.

A friendship is a pot of gold.