Life

I woke up this morning. Got wet and dried off. Had some food to eat. Then I turned back to the dimly lit room, where I watched pictures on a screen. Movements of people looking at each other, people hugging, people running, people fighting, people yelling and shouting and crying and kissing and smiling. Boyhoods and girlhoods with twinkles in their eyes. Teenagers with secrets on their lips, threatening to boil up through their fingers and feet in gestures that would betray their feelings. Dramas and comedies and horrors of destinies challenged. I woke up this morning and lived a life not my own. Time felt stale and ancient and forgotten. I needed purpose.
I left the room. I broke out into light; the light of day, the light of life. The light of things still alive and being born by the minute, by the second. The light of things changing, of things effected by actions. Everything is alive in the light, even when still. I left and started walking.
Things were big and made me feel small and adventurous. Made me feel I could breathe and grow. A world to conquer; a world to know. People lived their lives. Some doing chores, some working in the garden, others napping in chairs on front porches in the lazy sun. The machines that rolled down streets were few, not many. I suppose it was a slow lonely day. No business to attend.
Elsewhere were explosions and gunfire and havoc and they had business everyday.
Thoughts purged, I continued to walk, now exploring consciously and thinking of what was here before my time, what brought this place to this moment and what imprint would I leave if an imprint I left at all. The sun was hot, but the wind was cool and fresh and alive with far away waters and the nature surrounding the choked imprint of civilization. I walked in this imprint, along the grooves from pad to heel, back along the arch, then back up to the pad; traversing my way around this place, taking in the remains of peoples day, sharing in their experience and moving on to the next. I left the room, I broke into light and I walked and shared in journeys with those before me and those with me and even with those who will be back tomorrow.
I came home. I was sweating, I was slightly tired yet invigorated and mildly introspective over things that had been. On my way to the dimly lit room, I told those close to me of my journeys, shared where I had been and what had transpired. Then I went down, into the cool, the dense, the dim; I snapped on a light, took up a drink and drank of the liquid of life. I sat, I laid flat and I stopped for the moment. In that moment, I was alone. After everything, after all of it, at the end of the journey with whoever I encountered; all of it was gone and I was alone. The lights went out. I came home.