I walk into a crowd to find someone who will notice me. I reach out my hand, hoping that someone will take it. I feel the wind leaping across my fingertips. I hear it softly howling in my ear. Someone is lonely but am I alone. I want to answer and I want to be answered. I want to be heard. I want move across mountains. I want to grow wings and fly. I don't want to fade away. Someone is lonely but I am not alone. There are numerous people who feel these kind of blues. I wish we could find each other and find comfort in one another. But who will reach for me when I reach out? Who will reply when I can call out for help? I don't know. They don't know. However, these words are proof that I am here. Are you?
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