I walk, surrounded by people who have done more, experienced more, and lived more than I (only they cannot share any of it because they are dead). At the same time I walk surrounded by those who have done less, experienced less and lived less than I (only I cannot share any of it because they are dead). Usually I am unaffected by all of this, because I am pre-occupied. Tonight, however, I take it all in. Every headstone has new meaning, because instead of being the backdrop to a story in â€œourâ€ lives, it is a feature in this story of mine.
I walk, escorted by a menacingly peaceful body of water. It has witnessed fear and panic, it has witnessed joy and elation. Tonight, however, it bears witness to nothing because I am vacant, instead of providing this constantly flowing tributary entertainment, I search its depth for meaning and enlightenment, because instead of being a protagonist (or bystander) to a story of â€œourâ€ lives, it is a vague but compelling comfort to mine.
I walk, down a street once populated by leaves, dying to be kicked, now populated, it appears by parked cars and the oil stains left behind by their brethren. Where once I thought only of the future, interrupted by laughter and warmth, I now find only the stark present, the reality of waste and fragility; because instead of being an avenue of hope and dreams to a story of â€œourâ€ lives, it is a simple, meaningless corridor through mine.
I walk, through garages and allies and schools and offices; by rivers and houses and parks and nightclubs; around trees and golf courses and balconies and theaters. These used to ignite a fire in me, and, honestly, they still do, but it doesnâ€™t matter; because instead of being the foundation of the story of the rest of â€œourâ€ lives, they are the earth shattering memories of mine.
I walkâ€¦ away.
or, if you prefer… a look at how it was…