Each new face has their story.
Into you cross, a stranger’s journey.
Yet to them you are just another passerby.
To think that the complexity of life itself
is not contained within the bounds on an individual.
Thousands of ideas, similar,
shared amongst the diversity.
Yet the thoughts come and go,
like the strangers in our lives.
But who are these stranger?
And to them, who are we?
Nothing more than another pedestrian on the sidewalk.
Saddening, yet enlightening.
For we live singularly in our own paths.
Yet maybe two will cross,
even merge together and create another.
But not for you and I.
At least, not in this universe.
To believe our paths would do more than meet
for that split second.
But a fatuous dream.
And these thoughts may haunt me,
but they are just the usual sonder.
