This is something of a response to topic of the week... it came to me while in
philosophy class yesterday (I know, I know one ought not to be day dreaming in
class but when the Muse wanders by...)

~ ~ ~
The coffeeshop was one I'd been in and out of all summer it was the perfect
place- the only place- for our symposium on friendship. The late summer night
was mild and the place was expectedly empty. The atmosphere itself was
friendly, open with large couches and not-florescent lights. And yet I sat on
the outter edge of our group, on one of the chairs we'd pulled over in the
process of reconfiguring nearly all of the comfy funiture in the place. I'd so
many questions and thoughts and ponderings, collected, gathered and stored from
over the years - and it was all overwhelmed by a searing unintelligible ache.
"What is friendship?" Ah, the ambition of youthful passion in quest of the
good.
Round and round the question was passed, touching on this and the other, and all
seeming so far away. I watched the discussion form and shape itself into a
reflection of so many internal conversations with myself, only drawn out and
voiced by many characters. Gradually, almost inevitably, the ground shifted to
love and the scene to the coffeeshop steps, the sidewalk, and streetlight. Far
into the night we talked, so serious and earnest in our persuit of the beauty
of company and shared knowledge and ideas. Then, I stood apart and laughed
ironically to myself, perhaps more at myself and all of the others by
extenstion, for trying to grasp and understand the greatest mystery of life.
Now though, I smile at the remembrance and echo of the pain and still hold the
wonder that had brought me to that night inspite of that ache.