Mirror of the yet Unchosen

You are now in front of the face of a dying soul, a human being.
Nothing special really, for that is what we all are, just some of us tend to be more aware of that fact than others.

It is quite an ordinary face too. This face, like many others before and after it, has to this day not been unconditionally loved by any man on this earth. It's ordinariness so far not enough to capture the interest of a partner.

These clear eyes are sad, but hopefull, eyes that have never been looked into and made the other pair feel like they would never want to let go again.

These silent lips, unkissed by any man, have yet to recieve the sign of passion and promise.
A sign that one is needed or even wanted, preferred in this world.

I am talking about just that, the thing we human beings all life for:
A purpose

A reason to live can be anything. For this face, and though it may seem alone, is not, is to be convinced of that if you happend to disappear in the next moment, at least one person would care. That someone would rather have you in the world, than somebody else.
That someone chose you.

The face you are looking at is the yet unchosen.
Like so many others, it still searches and waits, trying to make it through life in this yet unchosen state.
Sometimes though, harsh and unfair. Sometimes still joyful, memorable and promising.

It is waiting for the one moment when someone finally choses. May the sun rise on that day of mystery, for that is the only hope of the face yet unchosen.