And Yet We Never Met

And yet we never met,
This man I feel as a friend.
His words resonate in me.
A kindred spirit perhaps?
I'll never be sure,
But there is much that was in him,
that if not in me,
I at least admire.

Ah, language.
Can any other human construct,
Mean as much?
Words can link men across the miles,
And through time,
As though these obstacles did not exist.
And if only a monologue is permitted,
Then that is still enough.
Enough that I might read,
And argue as I go,
And write.
And others who will never meet me,
Will argue as well,
Still more after them.

Mankind progresses,
Not as an amorphous mass,
But as individuals.
Each adding their own brick,
To the monument of humanity.
And as it becomes more complicated,
And enlarges exponentially,
It stays self-referential.
The beauty of the whole,
Reflected in the beauty of the one.

And this idea,
Original to me,
Was known to him.
To him,
There was indeed dialogue.

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