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Footsteps. Conversations.
Spinning wheels. A million eyes.
The sounds and the voices of a city-
always changing, constantly making itself be heard,
taking to itself, feeling the rush of being alive.

A cyclist weaving and racing through lines of cars,
vans, and trucks, gridlocked and stationery-
but glowing and constant red lights
doesn’t stop him for anything,
and for all he knows every light is green;
a commuter in a crowd making their way to work,
desperately holding on to the umbrella in one hand
and the take-out coffee cup
that they are holding onto tightly in the other-
just trying to get to work without bumping into someone else,
or crossing a street and almost being hit
by a fast-peddling cyclist that they nearly didn’t see.

Meeting places.
Get togethers.
The relay and transference of information and knowledge.
A starting point, a route, a destination, a direction, and end
that is merely a jumping-off point to a magical adventure-
like a song that you sing before following a yellow brick road.

There is traffic all around us-
in the sky, above the clouds around Earth,
over land, over sea, under the water, below the ground;
there is movement even in the stillness of a picture-postcard scene
that you don’t see, but which you can hear
by its noticeable feel and sound.

Life is always on the move,
and I find that absolutely phenomenal and terrific.
Life is an endless motorway that is connected and ventured down
and navigated every second by an infinite stream
and network of traffic.

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There is no sound,
there is nothing to be heard;
there is a couple sitting at the next table from me
in the cafe I am in
talking completely and fully without words,
and the beauty of their silent conversation,
even though I do not mean to pry in any way,
has me not only lost for words
but also lost in thought,
and I can feel my heart start to pound.

I can’t hear a word that they are saying to each other,
but I know that that is because their voice
is not meant to be heard by me-
they could be saying anything to each other-
but what I do know, just from observing the looks
that they are giving each other,
is that this couple is in love;
I recognize and I have seen this unmistakable,
silent, and mutual, connection of spirit
in myself and in others a thousand times,
and it never fails to read, at least to me,
like the most beautiful, natural, and special, poetry.

The eye-contact, lip-movements, and hand-gestures and signs,
they are making is entrancing,
the way they are so compelled and in-awe of each other
and do not need or want the attenton of anyone else
in the entire world is mesmerising-
I am not afraid of confessing.

I wanted to be a part of their conversation,
but I also, secretly, did find it cool that I and everyone
was an outsider because we couldn’t understand their code
and are not meant to.
I must admit I did smile at the thought of them
having so much privacy, and the gift of one to one communication
without the potential of being evesdropped on.

They looked like they only had time
and only had eyes for each other,
and that truly touched my heart and made me happy-
the joy they were feeling about talking to each other,
sitting facing each other, of one mind and intent,
was noticeable, palpable, and wonderful to see.
Communication on every level of society and by every means
all around the world in a million different ways
has always fascinated me,
and the gift of being able to reach out to someone,
especially someone that you love, in some way, in any way,
no matter who you are or how it is done
never ceases to fascinate me.

The couple that I was watching had their own language,
their own code of communication that even I could see,
surpassed the language they had been taught
to share what they want to say;
and it occurred to me after I left the cafe
that they have a code, everyone has a code,
and even I have mine-
my language, my code, is that of patterns and poetry;
and I also realised that if I or anyone wants to be a part
of any conversation, I and they have to learn and read
what is being said all around us every second,
sometimes silently without a sound,
because the answer to what is being said is
all in the signs.

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My heart feels like lead.
I don’t even want to get out of bed.
My head is pounding. My mind is swimming.
I feel numb. I have forgotten the touch and the heat of the sun.

At work I am making mistakes, I can’t do anything right.
At home I am reminded of every thing and every one that I have lost,
but the worst thing is that I feel like I have lost the will to write.

The words and the conversations that I have had with people
over the last couple of days have been rattling around in my head
and driving me insane-
to me, love is not something you can pretend to be in,
you are either in love or you are not-
love is not a game.

I am not perfect, and I don’t claim to be and never have,
but what I am is someone caring, passionate, full of energy,
full of life, and the farther the distance between me and someone
I put every second of thought into bridging and connecting
with someone as much as I can.

I have been told that I simplify things too much,
that I sometimes focus and obsess on things and people too much,
and I have to agree with that, I know that about myself,
that is what makes me such a good writer, I like to think-
I like to think, I like to feel, I like to be lost in something
and someone, I like, I love, to be in love.

Anyone on the outside looking in on me and on my relationships
would think that I seek out chaos, that I like the rocky road
more than I do the flat, maintained, tarmac of a highway-
however they would be mistaken, because, believe me,
I want nothing more than to be with someone, to be happy,
and for them to be happy with me,
living the quiet, simple life of embracing and making the most
of every second together,
and never even to think or ever want to walk away.

I have walked away from things and people in the past,
and every time I have hated myself after for it.
I don’t want to walk away from anything ever,
or anyone that I care about and love-
but sometimes I feel like I have worn out my welcome
and I have said and done all I can,
but what is below my feet now resembles a worn-out piece of carpet.

I am hurting.
I am confused.
I am like a computer that needs rebooting.
I am like a battery that has lost its charge and is now used.

It will all be ok tomorrow- I keep telling myself.
It will all work itself out- a friend of mine once told me.
It will be a brand new day, a brand new year.
It will be a fresh start- at least I hope it will be.
It will be a time to change again,
it will be a time to change everything,
and even though it will be hard,
I am willing to see how far I can go-
as long as I remember what my sister told me yesterday:
to “don’t change (my) good heart”.

The easiest thing to do is to say nothing,
the easiest thing to do can feel like the best thing to do,
and because it feel easy to you it seems like the best thing to do-
and if you go too deep and if you happen to go too far
with something even though you know shouldn’t
but you did because you needed to-
it can be a long, hard, heart-breaking journey back for you.
“What is the alternative?”, I ask myself everyday.
I am unable to just switch off my emotions
and forget what has happened with the snap of a finger.
That is what happens when you fall into the powerful realm
of love, and you immerse yourself in every effect of its drug
and the way that it makes you feel- love is great, amazing,
unbelievable, but what people don’t tell you
and can’t explain to you fully is that love is a road
that is hard to turn off from,
and the speed that you drive down it
and what every moment and experience does to you
is extremely addictive.

Silence is a bullet to your heart.
Holding back can fracture your mind.
When you feel like you are the only one in pain,
explaining to anyone else can seem like a story
you have no idea from where to start.
When you need someone to listen to you and be there for you,
and when they choose not to be there,
the world can seem riddled with darkness and doubt,
hard to take, and to put it mildly unkind.

You feel like you are alone,
even though you are not.
You feel like you can’t even sit looking out at the world
from the place of love and security that is your home.
You wait for a response from someone with an anticipation
that makes your entire body feel inflamed and hot.
You feel confused by every conversation that you have,
because you feel like you have run out of things
to say to each other.
You make yourself believe that you can do no right,
that you will always feel this way forever.

People see you,
and even though you think they have no idea
what you could possibly be thinking and feeling,
they know exactly what you are going through-
the expressions on their faces are as telling as your own,
the memories of a similar time in their lives floods back
and they don’t have to feel a thing, they just know.

The key to getting through anything is to reach out, not recede.
The key to getting over a wall is to grow,
to look up, to want to overcome what is in front of you,
and to tell someone what you need.
It’s not a bad thing. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
It’s never the wrong thing to express what you are thinking,
especially if it involves something intense
and all-consuming as love.
The key is to keep thinking, to keep doing,
to keep making, to keep walking.
For me, I know better than anyone
that if you have something to say
then you must say it, even if the person you are saying it to
doesn’t like it, or doesn’t want to hear it,
hears it, reads it, and then quickly forgets it,
and doesn’t reply to it.
The only thing I will say if you are feeling something in anyway,
is don’t stay silent, don’t fade away-
pick up the phone when someone is calling.
Keep talking.

To me, language is the single greatest invention of all time.
To me, the ability to be able to communicate on multiple-levels,
in many great and wonderful ways, is life at its prime.

The power of language, what it can do, what it has done,
has given rise to everything on Earth-
from the creation of all life on our planet,
to the next steps in human evolution as we know it, and beyond;
language will go on forever, its journey will never end;
language is in a perpetual state of rebirth.

The reason why language will never die
is because it is always re-inventing itself-
it never stops, it never tires;
language reverberates through the air like a shockwave,
and travels at the speed of light between peoples, cultures,
instinct, and consciousness, every nanosecond of every day,
transmitting on every frequency through the atmosphere, and back again,
and down incalculable lengths of cables and wires.

Language fills our world, language built our world,
language maintains our world, and is the source
of our collective well-being.
Humanity is absolutely besotted, obsessed,
and could not live without language-
we love to find new ways of saying things
that have already been written about and said countless times;
sometimes we like things spelled-out perfectly for us
so that there is no confusion,
and at other times we like to simplify things as much as we can
by abbreviating.

Music has been heralded as the “universal language”,
because of how it makes us feel
and because of how it can communicate,
sometimes centuries after it was first written, created, sung, and played,
an expression, a feeling, a message, a moment in time,
of a musician, a singer, a song-writer, or an artist,
that has been captured to out-live and endure beyond it’s inception.
When you hear a song or a piece of music being played
again and again, over and over;
when you hear a song when you are a child
and people are still playing that same song on the radio
when you have children of your own,
you know that that song, whatever it is, is special-
it has a life-span and a longevity and a power to it
that stays and will stay with our children and their children to come
as they grow older.

Language is everything.
Language is on every billboard, on every sign,
on every TV show, on every street.
Language is the reason for every letter, for every email,
for every message, for every text, for every tweet.
Language is every face, every person,
every piece of clothing, every style.
Language is every look, every thought,
every tear, every smile.

Language is constantly evolving.
Language is not in decline, language is not dying.
Language is asking questions of itself and the world, everyday,
and it is perpetually problem-solving.
Language is the foundation of every pattern,
the needle that guides and sews the thread of every stitch.
There is nothing more amazing in the entire universe
than the magic that is language.

We all live complicated lives,
we are all looking for somewhere to go,
somewhere we wish we were, with someone who makes us happy,
however yesterday I was reminded, by someone who I had never met before,
about the things in my life that mean the most to me.
Yesterday, I met a lady, an incredibly proud grandmother,
who sat beside me on the bench that I was sitting on in the park,
who simply wanted to tell someone how much she loved her family.
The lady told me that she was on her way home
and that she just wanted to rest for a short while;
however she could have chosen any bench in the park to sit,
but instead she chose my bench, and even now that makes me smile.

The lady that I met yesterday,
on what was a bright and beautiful Thursday morning,
offered me an unused bus ticket, if I wanted it,
and then began to tell me about her loving family-
starting with her grandson, who her son had told her
had been having problems sleeping during the night:
the lady told me how her grandson was always afraid to go to sleep
unless his big brother, who is training to become a priest,
was there to turn off the light.
The lady told me how her older grandson,
who was now living far-away from his brother,
had come home especially to surprise his brother
to put him to bed and to tell him that everything was all right.
So full of so much pride, so much so that I could see it
in the lady’s eyes and on her face,
suddenly the air of mid-morning seemed more beautiful and bright.

I listened to the lady, as she spoke to me
for what must have been only ten minutes,
and I could feel the love in her voice,
and her words made me feel quite emotional-
hearing about the precious moments of a life of goodness and giving
that the lady and her family enjoys.
Unfortunately, I had to leave the lady- I had somewhere to get to-
however I felt guilty for having to leave her,
because I could have continued to talk to her all-day.
I stood up from my seat, I apologized to the lady,
and then I thanked her for taking the time to talk to me;
the lady then returned the compliment to me, telling me that
“I hope you have a great day”.

I thanked the lady again and then I went on my way,
spellbound and enriched by the lady’s stories, life, and family,
hoping in my heart to do the same for someone else in the future-
to inspire and to brighten someone’s day,
because that is how I felt after I met The Lady.

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