If You Knew You'd Be the Last to Touch Someone?

There's a kind of respect that we offer in meditation to the whole ofour uselves. And as you do, as you let yourself take time to meditate and become present and become intimate with it. A poem from ellen bass she writes called, if you knew, what if you knew you'd be the last to touch someone? If you were taking tickets, for example, at the theatre, tearing them, giving back the ragged stubs,. You might take care to touch that palm brush, finger tips along the life line's crease. So respect does not mean of bland oneness, the melting pot homogeneity. As roomy says, don't surrender your loneliness