Men outside my window are digging holes. Deeper and deeper, what are they looking for? I am thinking of joining them, following the Zen mantra to dig a hole and fill it up only when you have found your answer.
They take away my water, I wish more people would take from me.
Men inside the arena fight their battles of egos. Side by side and yet alone. The shine of the new soon wears off and I see them for who they are. Players in a game.
I strike a deal with myself every day, the pay-off is uncertain. I reward myself for not thinking about the future by indulging in the now. Let it roll up, like it always does.
Every morning I struggle for balance. The weight in the back shifts and if I don’t hold it in place, communications will break down. World in a rectangular case.
Oh, how the flood outside makes me rejoice! Without mercy the watery masses pour down, the wind whipping every drop into shape and sending it on a speedy journey down the road. The reckless thunder roaring in between the houses, no special effects necessary. And the lightning bathing the gruesome scene in ghostly white, while the man in the moon decided to extinguish his lantern.
For a second I am determined to run outside and spread my arms, letting the rain hit me with its might. Make me feel something other than this unrest.
Like always, I don’t move.
“Look at me, I’m made of wonderful. I’m all easy breath and steady walk, steady walking. But underneath I’m barely moving on.”