I know not you and you know not me,
And yet a thread of fate binds us in mystery.
I have nothing to show, nothing to share,
Nothing to impress you enough to stop and stare.
The truths of life are often shrouded in haze,
The more we ponder, leaving us more in daze.
The only thing that matters is happiness,
Of the thread that binds us,
and that of our own anguished selves.
