The beauty of a spring day, the appreciation of the weather bringing out the sun. On a rock in Central park, wrapped in a blanket. All his belongings in a cart parked near by. A man sleep soundly while the people walk the park and enjoy the weather.
It does not matter that my name is Hank, I am the homeless man you see walking to the meal that has no reservation.
My coat is all I have but it carries many necessities for this journey.
Makes no difference I made a living wearing a suit, I was not born on the street. My life twisted into a direction without a map or exit sign.
I do not shave but I try to keep as clean as possible, I do not look at people anymore, they do not exist to me here. I am the homeless man with no name; they turn their heads and carry on. I will not let them exist to me anymore. This is all I have, no more questions, no more tears, just the journey to nowhere.
Forgotten? Maybe!
Alive? Yes! Here I am God, waiting for the purpose of this journey.
I only exist to myself, so here I walk to the meal with no reservation... alone.
0 comments:
Post a Comment