During the summer twilight, I fix myself to a bench in the park. Lamplight glows among the swaying trees; Lovers, Children, Beings full of Life stroll before me. They do not stop or care to talk to a spectator. I am left alone with the stars and the fireflies, yet they do not stay with me for long.
I stare across a flaxen meadow; small brown birds swoop above its grasses and earth-bound creatures scurry around the roots. Life fills the silence of the air. I hear it, pulsing in my ears as a solemn drum. I see it in the rounds of nature. But I can only stare, and Life wheels along time.
I hear of songs and stories that tell of things I’ve never lived. They are apart of my mind, nothing else. I once tried putting them to life, but they are not Life enough. Imagination is not fuel enough to shake me from passivity. I remain a spectator of Life, exiled from the Living, existing only in my mind.
Photo Credit: William M Chase