Soul.

There is something. I am in as little a doubt as I am of the fact that we breathe, cogitate, sweat and love.

Is it the part of me that yearns? I yearn for a world where the weak is not trampled, where lovers are free to meet, where the concept of suffering is an academic concept in a history book, a legend which we could afford to believe in... or not.

Is it the part of me that seeks an answer to a new question as soon as I got one?

Is it the part of me which pines calls for my loved ones night and day (and in that order)?

Is it the part of me that seeks to leave my own tracks on this muddy road?

Meanwhile, my basal ganglia secretes hormones which act upon the sympathetic and parasympathetic. My chest at times feels like is going to explode, and there are eagles in my stomach, striving to be free and soar.

There is something. It's called "me".

And, for some reason unfathomable (or, at least deep enough so as to almost be), it caught a glimpse of that "you" (yes, you), and recognised itself.

I refused to use the term "soul" (save for Marvin Gaye and the likes), and there you have me talking about soulmates...

I cannot be the first human feeling this way, surely. For want of a better word, I'd call you that, near or far.

Near or far, you sit in this bus I'm in, by my side.

I have no way to objectively express it, but that doesn't make it any less real.