My First (and possibly last) Attempt at Poetry

The following is a poem I wrote about life in a Taiwanese city (in free verse):

I am witness. Witness to a million lives, lived out in the routine, and sometimes not routine of life.
Air is thick, tensions thicker, behind walls in unseen rooms.
Voices, calm, laughing, shouting, angry. I am immersed.

Faces pass. All the same, all different. Eventually you see. Not all the same.
Emotions pushed deep, behind a mask, erupt from time to time. This is human, yes?
Cries, anguish, witness the suffering, both public and private.

Frenetic pace, yet a pure flow, like a river that turns it's course, winding, ever moving to it's place.
At any given time, I see any given picture. A snapshot; scenes that could be repeated a thousand times in other places, yet all within this pool.

Noise growing, steady, constant, then fading, to the rhythm of the orbit.
Heat and light, cold and dark, faces, lit from within. Faces, devoid of hope.
Friendship, relationship, love. How different we are, yet how similar.

Words fall like raindrops. Rippling in time, but without meaning, to me.
I get it, I understand, but miss the point. Is there some secret you're not telling me? Or am I just to thick, too "outside"?

A smile. Eyes connect with eyes. You know me. I know you. Thank-you. I am your guest. You are a gracious host. Can I offer you hope.....?