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For some the weekend has already started;
for some the time to let their hair down,
to go out and enjoy themselves
while having fun in the sun
has already begun,
and will continue for all the hours
that the sun shines,
until the stars come out at night;
for some this is the time to go out and party;
for some, they have have been waiting for this time,
these days, since the last weekend ended,
and they are constantly waiting
for the arrival of Friday night-
which might consist of going out with friends,
an evening in front of the TV,
going to see a good film at the cinema,
or perhaps sitting in a beautiful garden
under the stars while marveling at the moonlight.

Saturday is a day when things happen;
Saturday is a day when people meet up, talk, and catch up;
Saturday is a day when you can put worries on-hold
and make wishes a reality;
Saturday is a day when you can let everything spin,
like the rings of Saturn;
Saturday is a day when things go on
that you don’t read about every day in a book;
Saturday is a day for making the most of the things
and the people who define life, passion, and true beauty.

Saturday is the day for a walk in the park;
Saturday is the day for doing your favourite things;
Saturday is the day for going for a long drive
in the countryside in your car;
Saturday is the day for concerts, music,
family, dancing, singing, and weddings,

The world doesn’t just stop at the weekend-
just because it’s a Saturday,
that doesn’t mean that everyone is off work all day long;
people still have a job to do,
airplanes still take off
and people are still jetting off
to all corners of the planet
in hopes of finding something
and leaving other things behind;
people still do good things,
and things still occasionally go wrong-
but that is ok, that is how it is supposed to be,
that is the life of yours and mine.

Go out and run in the sun;
go for a swim in a swimming pool,
or in the warm water of an ocean;
go and see something inspiring,
heart-racing, stunning, and fun;
go out of your way and do something for someone.
Go out of your front door
and see and hear and do what you want to do your way;
go on, and whatever you do
make sure you have a great day
and the best Saturday.

On a moonlit night, dressed all in black,
a man walks the streets of his town,
reflecting on the night that has passed
and also on the realization that he cannot give back.

To taxi drivers, and early-morning passers-by,
he is like a ghost in the street lights;
and as he takes a step closer towards home,
it occurs to him that no one really knows him-
people think they do, but he is not the person
that some people believe they are capturing in their sights.

We can never truly know how we are seen by others,
nor what our emanating first-impression is-
all that the man knows is that tonight
he got a glimpse into a mirror that showed him
how people perceive him,
and he wonders if it is a recurring after-image
that when he is described everyone sees.

Maybe it is because, these days,
his words speak for him without him even opening his mouth-
he has found that actions, especially his own,
have spoken silent volumes about who people are-
and that fact he too thinks long and hard about.

Perhaps he is a closed-book
that periodically and uncontrollably
sometimes has their cover opened
and their pages turned by the winds of the world,
and if it were not for a book-mark here and there
nothing about him would be known or unfurled.

We are all a mystery to one-another,
sometimes even to our friends, and our families;
sometimes we are even a mystery to ourselves-
just because we live our lives
does not mean that we know everything about our lives;
sometimes things lie out of reach on perceptions highest shelves.

Song-writers and story-tellers have been singing about and describing
men and women in black for some time now,
but until last night and this morning
this Man in Black never understood who they were talking about
and he never thought that a person like that
would be a person like me.
He wonders if he will always be a Man in Black;
however, that is not for him to know,
that is not for him to see.

When we are a child we are afraid of the dark,
and even as some people grow older
they cannot sleep without a light to assure them and to guide them,
even if that light is but a spark.
I used to be afraid of the dark,
I used to drift off to sleep while mesmerized
by the glow of a light-bulb underneath my bedroom door,
I used to look into the shadows
and make myself believe that I could see a face,
I used to listen to every sound
and wonder what it was that was walking unseen over my floor.
And then, one day all the lights went out,
my bedroom and my entire house were now only being lit
my the majestic light of the moon-
I remember my Mum coming up to my room and telling me by candle-light
that “everything was going to be ok, the light will be back on soon”-
and the most amazing thing happened afterwards:
everything was ok, the power came back on,
and with the light, and at no time that night, since then, or now,
have I not believed, without fear, that everything is going to be all right,
its all just a question of when and how.

Lights go out everyday,
but they always return to life brighter than they were before-
day, or night, whether in the sky, or right beside us on Earth,
seen, or unseen, a spark is always there, that no one can ever obscure.

I have found great solace in darkness
broken only by the light of hope within my dreams;
I have felt powerful inspiration from the assured smile of a friend
telling me that everything is not always as it seems;
I have been in a sea of uncertainty,
diving below the surface, before coming face to face with a fast-moving shark-
unmoving, unafraid, and unlimited,
I raised my head to look at the glittering sunlight above,
I closed my eyes, and I went back to the spark.

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