We, who cannot love freely, <br />are doomed to exist without it - <br />We, who cannot touch without a thought, <br />Ourselves, are living untouched. <br /> <br />We, who find it hard to show compassion, <br />are suffering from the lack of it - <br />We, who sleep separately, die alone. <br />We, who cannot express, the deep soul of <br />our existence, <br />will struggle all of our lives, to be accepted. <br /> <br />We will be misunderstood, <br />laughed at, <br />ridiculed, <br />and left alone, <br />to follow pathways of <br />our own choosing. <br />The roads will be passengerless <br />and empty. <br />The hills, long, <br />inclining upward <br />and progressively difficult. <br /> <br />We will always be climbing mountains, <br />in fair or foul weather, <br />our eyes searching for <br />the end of the trail... <br />our hearts longing for <br />the peaceful destination <br />that we know, awaits us. <br /> <br />What God we know, <br />will sustain our course. <br />What little taste of life <br />we acknowlege, <br />will ease our burden. <br /> <br />The solitary individual <br />is forever lonely. <br />The life that he or she <br />has chosen, <br />was never meant to be, <br />one of contentment. <br /> <br />Robert W. Service called them <br />A Race Of Men That Don't Fit In, <br />and The Ryhmes Of The Restless Ones. <br /> <br />Where do you fit in?<br /><br />david lessard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/we-who-cannot-love-freely/
