DO YOU KNOW HOW SPECIAL YOU ARE

The fiery ball now sinks into the sea over the horizon. Only shadows of the wing-flapping seagulls protruded from the yellow and red canvas. Painter’s hand now suspended for the eye caught the last orangey rim of the setting sun. There it is… swallowed by waves. Sailboats now rush to the shore and dock at the local harbor.

Two lost souls somewhere ramble streets of a big city… lost in their dreams. Their dreams will meet some day, but before they do, hopeful search for a companion, lover and friend, will go on.

Boats have a harbor and our endless companion the sun rises and bows. It’s humble majesty cares not if you praise it or abase it. It is and it travels; so it seems. We travel we move and we go somewhere. But the path is not beaten nor yet hardened with the treading feet; although man’s attempts—partially successful—could not firm it, nor say, ‘that’s it;’ those that did; sunk ever deeper into a quagmire of empty definitions grasping for a nearby dry grass and loose crackling twigs.

The sky changes colors from blue to emerald, from orange to red. Stars stick like a glue to the firmament, but do they indeed? Perhaps we move with them in the same direction. No repose and no rest. The engine of all things keeps turning the axles of life.

Everything swirls on the axles of life so graciously bestowed upon us the children of the hidden God. His face man wants to behold and gaze upon His silhouette, but either his gaze is faulty or there is nothing to behold, but only feel and ponder upon?

I feel life and its gentle caressing. It beckons me closer to look into its secrets, saying, “Search me out and never stop until you find.”  I’m on a quest from time long ago, before instance was formed and measured with clocks invented by us with gears and springs and those turning arms. Each time you look at its face; it changes moods from early to late. It signals and woos, waves ‘hello’ and waves ‘goodbye.’ But we return to its round face with admiration until the eye can see no more. The nagging and urging time does not stop, it passes on.

But there is hope. What do we know? There must be a code that we must crack for it’s been given to us to seek, finally find and then change our lives. We tweak computers to suit our needs; our whims and wishes are satisfied… but are they indeed? Perhaps we dig the wrong hole in that old beaten and well-trodden path. Perhaps there is a path yet undiscovered hardly walked on but by the chosen few. This path awaits your search for the truth. This path awaits the special YOU.

How special you are only God knows, but also I do. How precious you are only He knows, but I also want to know what hinders you. Show me your feathers with which you fly; certainly you are an angel but in disguise.

How lonely you are only you know. Dissatisfied with frivolous chats, exchanges of words void of any meaning? Nonetheless, you keep on chatting away, mercilessly beating down the ticking clock. You chat away your precious life as the sun sets lower behind the clouds and sinks into the ocean on the horizon, which now came closer into the purview of your unexplored life. The curtain is drawn on the empty show and that lonely distant path remains untrodden. Why have you not let me pin those wings on you and make you fly? Why do you chose those dreary corridors, those smelly alleys of that lonely life?  

Those two rambling souls have finally met their hearts embraced each other; they chatted away their lives too; their bones are buried in some lost tomb.

The thrill is gone BB King sings. The thrill is gone the bluesman exclaims. All that remains is the old chat we once wasted on thrills that don’t last at all.

But there are thrills unlimited. I know them well for I bathe in them. As I write these words I hold out hope for some, but sorrow for others who’ve chosen a path that ends in regrets. My only comfort is this precious knowledge that some can’t change the garb of a tare, the field or the good seed. As for the last I know where I go and what I contain is life divine; time has arrived to stop throwing pearls before … (you know). Alas, lest they trample them down and turn on you in disgust. Although you meant well, yet was misconstrued; no one cared to comb through your phrases; dig out the gold; discover the plenty; adorn their minds with jewels of light. They ran into burrows dug with their paws to hide their eyes from too much light.

The truth is found on the tip of your nose where your reading glasses sit. It sits on the tip of your wet tongue. Don’t aimlessly spit it out, but let it slide gently off your tongue and heal those hormones-driven rambling souls still lost in the sinews and bones of their fragile frames.

There is more. Much more than you would ever know. Search engines of the World Wide Web are not the ones you should hit “go;” they’ll take you for a senseless spin. Turn the engine of your own device. Seek after life that is much fuller, much deeper, more meaningful and far beyond the now.

What you seek is looking at you now staring in your face. Because you are one of the unique ones I’ve been drawn to you by the hand divine. That’s why we met and communicate. You are special and most honored because you’re being introduced to the beyond and most sublime. Don’t miss your turn when it knocks on your door, but open it wide and with a welcome smile.

Read Part II