In quieter moments,
we ache to be understood.
But that part of us is almost always quiet,
quiet, except to other hushed souls who possess ears to hear,
and whose spiritual skin feels the voice of others
as if it were their own. But, we are only as sick as our honesty,for
LIFES’ greatest spoken truths drive people mad,
makes people kill us,
and in this world,
in our most sublime, beautiful moments, we die to live.
We are dying to break our reservoir open
to give simply to the simple giver.
But split not your soul in grief after long seeking;
draw forth to riches reserved for one whole soul.
If but for a moment,
meld into eternity one another's encircled,
unspoken embrace.
The quality of understanding rain
soothes smooth the thorny brow.
Wretched fever breaks from unruined love,
and time is never past its prime.
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~ Janet ~ 
