Collectively it seems that the time for a refreshed view of the world needs to occur. Every aspect, personal, professional, political and polytheistic, needs a reassessment as to value and place. The core is solid, a nucleus that can’t be split, but all that revolves around and interacts with it is subject to change. And that’s the golden moment, any new thing can be found and discovered.
You can see it on the ground level, the places where people congregate and assemble. It’s in the blank stares of those that wander the streets, un-contained within car skin that rushes by. No, what I’m talking about is the people that you find while wandering boulevards that are meant to be parked, not walked. There’s something very odd afoot, hidden away and unseen at speeds above 10 mph, elements of a drastic decay seemingly taking hold.
This is one view, something that pops out to the eye on the pedestrian level. A theater being played out that is impromptu and merciless. The odd thing is that no one is watching it, only acting within it, not pondering it. The director and producers have taken their collective leave, hoping for the best as they retire to safer lodgings. “Bravo!” you may say, lets see where this all ends, take control of the uncontrollable.
It may seem that all of the above is unconnected and ranty in nature, but I beg that it is just the opposite. Each element is interconnected, and that which is playing out on the streets, directly plays out through each and every other quarter of our society. It is seen in the manner in which people speak to one another, honk uncontrollably, swear vindictive curses, and gaze with a hollow emptiness back out into the world.
Yet there’s hope. Just the other day I passed a man that was down on his luck, who asked me for the time. I smiled back at him and politely offered “10:30”, followed by a quick “Have a great day!” as I continued on my way. A few hours later, making my way back the way I had come I encountered him again, but this time he was on the other side of the street embroiled in song. “O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain, for purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain!” echoed in his voice as he sang out for the world to hear, or just me.
There’s hope, in it’s own very strange way.