In the dead of night I yearn for you,
Reader.

For your connection,
And the belief that you are someone,
And I am someone,
And that there is significance enshrined in our exchange.

I am made small by the vastness of this immense world.
7 billion souls, and I am but a diminutive voice in the crowd.

I hope that you hear my voice,
As I hear yours.

I hope that we might discourse,
You and I.

And I hope that,
Perhaps,
We might impact some souls outside our circle.

To think otherwise is too much to bear.
I cannot carry a cross of anonymity,
A cross of insignificance.

I must voice my thoughts,
And hope they are heard.

Because if a poet writes and has no reader,
Did the poet write at all?

So here is to you, dear reader.

This,
My shameless plug for your continued loyalty--

Without you, I am not me.

I have reduced your readership to mere pity,
You see.

Still I must ask--
Read me.