belongingness: what does this word mean?

i would explain to my son that belongingness is something you can't touch but feel.
eden, my daughter, would get a kiss.

for many years i was looking for people i could belong to; i was on a quest. and this quest went along with fears and doubts. this quest was ******* the energy out of my mind and out of my soul...

how did this quest began, though? on a strange day, i was asked a very intimate question by a professor; a professor whose background i'm aware of; she asked me:

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

her question came out of nowhere. she blindsided me.
therefore, i wasn't prepared for an answer that could have satisfied her; regardless what my past really is about.

at this point of my life i wasn't aware about my ancestors; but the professor's questions caused me to become it.

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

i do know about my past now; but the answer i gave this lady was not sufficient for her. by the end of our conversation she said:

"i am sorry. can't shake your hand now. have to go toilet."

that was it. oh my, was i disappointed and frustrated; because this certain lady would have opened many doors for me; doors for which she administrated the keys.

you know, there are days in your life that want to you to be desperate. and yes: i was desperate. about being rejected. and that i wasn't able to have access to dorrs that lead to important conferences, meetings and to important people.

but you know what? it doesn't matter anymore.

because here, on hellopoetry, i have found a place of belogningness.
and what my real past is will remain hid: a secret in a purple-colored casket i have the key to.

hellopoetry is a place of belongingness. not just for me but for many many kind-hearted people. and i am not stating this from an opportunist's view: i can feel you guys here and sometimes i sense kindred spirits.

Wake me up when Christ returns at the end.
When sin, death and hell no longer offend.

I almost made it until the last scene,
depressed⁠—considering what might have been . . .

But what I envisioned, that it was not;
And thus, I finally lost track of the plot.

Greatness, my old friend
We've walked together for so long
It grieves me then that I must leave
   thee
For now I must further ascend.

Immortality's house is dark about
Her lovely Queen on her sick bed
   lying,
In her dreams she cries out for me
With copious tears and heavy sighing.

So pack up my things and put on my
   rings
My purple robe and crystal diadem,
My going there will be a fine affair
'Twill be the greatest of all royal
   weddings.

She'll see me coming, her tears will
   stop running
I'll stand before her and banish all
   care
Then I'll take her in my arms and kiss
   her
And light up her world like a flare.