Endless Journey

Today I thought I had found you,
you were browsing through some old books in a street stall,
and after a lot of thinking I just took a chance
and started talking...
unfortunately it wasn't you.

Nevertheless, this means hope isn't lost,
however dim it seems,
although most of the time I end up feeling this is an endless journey,
and that the true sense is in the search itself,
not in the destination I dream of.

Is it possible I'll be more content this way,
instead of fulfilling my dream?
It seems strange I would be so calm and even at peace
after you just waved goodbye and lost yourself among all the people in the street,
forever nameless.

Perhaps it's better this way,
as I used to keep all sort of memories:
names,
faces,
places,
and most of all,
bitter answers hanging in my nightmares.

At least I was able to talk to you,
forgetting loneliness for a couple of minutes.
Could I settle just for this?
Sometimes I just long for a single word,
a caress,
the soft embrace of simple closeness.

Maybe the problem is how far I'm willing to go,
or better said, how little I'm able to do.
Maybe Love is such a daunting task
I can't even grasp the very concept,
let alone try to touch it.