To what extent can we really touch other's Lives?

What,
More
Or Less,
Or Else
Can I do?

But send out Vacant words or
Empty gestures,
Frail dances
And Sorrowful expressions:
Pale messages in Opaque bottles,
Drifting
In these oceans which Storm Between us,
And hope that they are found,
Picked Up,
And given life, Substance,
By the kindness of a stranger.

Can only Hope,
One of these
Street-Faces
Stops
And smiles.

Maybe then
This Harshness
Is worthwhile.