you reached up and as

I walked past Something

Fell and it was not me:

nor was it you. All the

Better that what fell in

Rome was not myself

Nor you.

Those few lines are so... so... well, I can't find the words for it, but a reaching out and understanding of something so overwhelming that the reader is prompted to think about themselves, and not completely on the poem. You know what I mean? Maybe not, but I loved it.