We are the Golden-Hearted

I sit here and venture the why,

The where and the what,

Who are we really, and how.

We are the Golden-Hearted.

We originate from particle matter,

Though too infinitesimal to perceive,

Too expansive to comprehend.

We are creations of the universe

With its endlessly flowing darkened abyss. 

We have grown, developed, evolved,

For centuries into these imperfect beings,

With these imperfect bodies

And these imperfect minds.

There is no question of our flaws.

The drive, the motivation, the explanation.

Power, said Nietzsche.

Wealth, said Marx.

Faith, said Kierkegaard.

Connection, said Hegel.

Dear Hegel, I do concur.

Connections are the life and blood

Of that internal drive,

Until death, eternal.  

I sat there watching him, incomplete,

He twisted around and our eyes met.

Don’t we all wait for that moment?

Through our gaze was understanding,

A connection long awaited,

Impossible to find.

Dare I say, I fell from that dark abyss,

The particles of the universe reformed

And I was reborn, finally, I was here.

Dare I say, I found love?

I was living, presently, and forever after.

Experiences find meaning in the

Connections, bonds, the ties we make.

We must find an ideology, a belief,

A concept, a person, a group that

We understand; the link must be made,

Lest we disintegrate into particles

Of the universe, never truly having lived,

For there would be nothing holding us here.

Connections ground us, keep us stable.

They keep us human.

We are the Golden-Hearted,

Shining, a marvelous effect from

The center of our imperfect chests.

We are here and we are living.