Friendship is a Comforting Thing

A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series

Why some people come into our lives

Is it random, planned, on a recommend

Or just another fashion for us to survive

I often ponder over that question

Brooding over why they do

As folks are tough to work with

Too complex, cryptic to construe

May be we all scare each other

Yet none of us ever live alone

We all need masses to go on

Friendship is a comforting thing

Secure blanket we can hide in

Lie in naked of all pretentions

Uncloaked and safe of all tensions

Cry, shout, laugh, be what we are

Shatter, scatter and split apart

They are potions to make us whole

Not some freak mechanic to control

For each day we sleep of strife

For everyday each of us revive

We are all crazies, we are all flawed

But, we all wing it, we all make do