Touch

How right you were to say that we are only but an animal!

How right you were to say that we are subject to our senses.

Touch, so familiar, even if distant from another,

Connects the dots within the mind.

Somewhere deep I tremble under the grasp of closeness,

Somewhere deep I yearn for the release of distance.

It demands a certain kind of presence, a certain kind of freedom;

To embrace and be with one another, to touch and feel.

Without it, you are bound to no longer be there or here.

You are bound to be nowhere, and nowhere is where you will be.

I endure the time between contact, but in the contact I find my peace.

Like a child nestling against his mother's chest,

I am now cradled by the vast expanse of the world beyond.

A speck in its eternity, yet cared for and beloved.

Even if this feeling fades, the truth persists.

Life cherishes its creations, nurturing us so completely

That to call it merely "life" seems inadequate.

It is the divine, touching our innermost being,

Connecting with us until the very end.