You're a poem of mystery, you're the prayer inside me

Sometimes I'm convinced that the world is made up solely of people desperately seeking to connect with someone else and all the time missing. Like we each know that no matter how hard we try, we cannot know each other fully, but we still try anyway. I blogged about this ages ago on my old journal site. My thoughts haven't changed much on the subject, although I'm convinced of the beauty in it. It's sort of a painful beauty, but a beauty nonetheless. And sometimes we get it right...and oh, what days those are. The white ones. The ones that stick.