How does one meet another?

Flowers bloom, but in what way?

Why does the breath stop with a gasp?

How do we find a way together?

How do we know what to say?

In what language do we love? You will never know.  

When we meet do we find peace?

Is there madness when we part?

What is beauty's magic spell?

How does love in secret grow?

You, obsessed by good advice, full of wisdom in your heart,

What path do seeking souls stray? You will never know.  

How are festering wounds produced?

Why do scars burn in the heat?

How does anybody weep?

How does pain its torment show?

Lamentations, tears, moans?

 How are cries from anguish born? You will never know.

What do aimless wanderers do to pass their days and nights away?

How do they live their lives?

Where do they go, where do they die?

What in grief is loneliness and desolation?

Can you say?

What meaning holds a restless life? You will never know.  

Yes, you have a taste for verse, a great respect for prosody.

You see it as a social grace, a fine adornment meant for show.

You pick your letters, and you hear the words but only the words,

What is said between the lines........ you will never know.