Kindness

Kindness,
the rarest of gifts
in a world where few gifts are given,
has been your gift to me
in awaiting my words.

Could it be that somewhere
in my mind's meanderings
there is substance or hope
or insight to be attained?

Do poets ask themselves
such questions?
For an observation here,
an occurrence there,
to set heartfelt palpitation
of the finger to the key,
to become the reconciliation
of desire to inspire,
and conceive to receive,
kindness?