Vision

In a stretch of a city street all of life happens from beginning to end...you walk through all of it as if you have lived it before. Flashes just before your eyes. I see a child jumping in a puddle as his mother relishes the moment in a photo, to try to capture the present forever, slips with time...I walk past a funeral home and people mourning and damp. Like me, a wet pigeon flying in the rain, looking for refuge and peace.The corner of my eyes catches flickering lights...I think that's how I feel...I am like an empty nail salon's neon sign...on and off, on and off. The glow says...open, open, open...and I'm just washing away my limbs, heart and thoughts with holy water. It becomes a ritual after doing it for so many years...roaming is a meditation. An art form...the art I realize I have been practicing, never close enough to perfect, is the art of seeing. Take your walks through the labyrinth of life...rain or shine...Rain or shine...keep your lights on, eventually someone will come in...splash around while you can, witness the story with every step, celebrate the sacredness of every passing moment.