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Sitting on a sandy beach looking out to sea;
sitting at a chess board behind pieces of black and white;
sitting on a deck chair in a beautiful garden
surrounded by birds, trees, flowers, and bees;
sitting, waiting, meeting, thinking, talking,
on a gorgeous morning, on an inspiring afternoon,
under the stars that shine so bright at night.

Talking into the air;
writing what comes to mind;
feeling the sun change the view right in front of you
to reveal something hopeful hidden in the glare;
realizing the importance and the meaning instantly
of a thing that you find;
seeing a photograph and flashing back to the past;
witnessing the building blocks of something
and imagining the finished product in the future;
being the first in line,
when for so long you thought you were the last;
connecting with life like you do with friends on a computer.

Life is sometimes about what you feel,
and about how you make other people feel,
rather than what you know for sure, or what people say;
life is sometimes tough;
life is sometimes good;
life is sometimes rough;
life is sometimes about taking off your shoes
and walking barefoot in the woods;
life is sometimes about making a return to your roots,
especially after travelling far and engaging
in a life-experiencing and world-spanning tour.

When you find ‘the one’ hold on tight to them-
no matter how or why things happen,
make no mistake that there is a greater force
and meaning to everything that is a part of a bigger plan.
When you remember everything that everybody goes through,
you make the most of every miracle that was always meant to be-
even though it may seem to have come out of the blue.

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On a morning walk down the city high-streets,
passed countless people, passed shops,
stores, restaurants of all names,
I am stopped in my tracks instantly when I see
a Golden Gunslinger reading a book
while sitting at the foot of a tree.
I’m not sure how long he had been there,
I’m not sure what he was thinking,
but when I looked at him looking down at his book,
to me, the gunslinger looked
as if he didn’t have a care in the world,
and it seemed as if to the gunslinger
the rest of the world could carry on their way
because he was lost in thought, in state,
and frozen in time, but like a performer at a carnival,
the gunslinger sat with a tin pot
just to the left of his right boot
asking politely of his generous passer-by
for a token of interest, fascination, respect,
and a thought to show that they care.

I sat in-awe of the gunslinger on a bench nearby,
and I even took a picture-
I felt like I was looking back in time,
or as if the gunslinger had been transported to the future,
to our present-
and as I sat looking at him, the sun shone brightly on him,
and made him glow even more golden,
and he looked even more amazing than he did before,
and even the sky above looked even more blue.
I thought long and hard about approaching the gunslinger
and putting some money in his pot,
and I wondered what he would do if I did-
would he lower his book? Draw his gun and take a shot?

The incredible living-statue of the gunslinger
that mesmerised me, painted head to toe in gold,
in himself was a work of art-
he was so brilliant to behold,
because as soon as I saw him I was instantly transported
back in time to my childhood,
and my fantasies of wanting to be a cowboy.
The Golden Gunslinger was like a living photograph
of a time of adventure and a reminder of the heroes
and out-laws that fill the stories of the Wild West
that once was in America that for so many
still holds a special place in their heart;
The Golden Gunslinger reminded me of how care-free
and amzing it is to a child, or someone who acts on and follows
their instinctual passions-
whether you are a man, or a woman, a girl, or a boy.

As time caught up with me,
even though in all the time I was sitting there looking at
the gunslinger he did not move an inch,
I realised that it was time for me to move on.
I decided to approach the gunslinger and give him a coin
from my pocket to repay him for his time,
his inspiration, his generosity, and his golden spirit,
and even as I got closer and closer
he still didn’t look up or look away from his book
and didn’t for a second flinch;
and then, as soon as my £2 coin hit the rest of the coins
in his golden pot and made a sound,
The Golden Gunslinger suddenly came alive
and he looked up at me-
he lifted his left hand to touch the rim of his Stetson,
he looked right into my eyes, and I saw him smile
without him having to move his lips at all,
and he bowed his head slightly,
and it was in that moment that I smiled too
in appreciation, and I too began to shine as the sun shone.

As I stepped back the gunslinger reverted back
to the pose in which I first saw him,
and he immediately went back to his prefered-posture
of reading his book, at-ease against the base of his tree;
while I turned to my right and continued to walk down the high-street-
I didn’t look back, but I knew and I was so glad to have met him,
to have given him my time, and for him to have given his time to me
and to everyone who saw him, because he reminded me
in lots of ways of myself, and he was obviously someone
of great patience and a deep-thinker.
I promised myself to capture this moment that would never come again
in as much detail and with as much meaning as I could,
and I also promised that I would never forget
The Golden Gunslinger.

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A lot of people in this world do things because they have to,
so many people live a life having to do things-
jobs, commitments, obligations, promises-
that they might not want to do, but they have to do,
to live, to survive, to provide, to save,
so that they can eventually do all the things
that they have been dreaming about doing,
and perhaps no longer have to live the life of a lie.

Most people don’t ask for things these days, they expect them.
Most people don’t understand, haven’t been taught, or have forgotten,
that sometimes to get what you want you may have to give something
first before you get something back-
some people extend their hand involuntarily, always expecting
to shake the tree, and there always be something for them to catch.

If you can do something that you love
and give something at the same time to someone
that they may not and would not ask for,
but they need more than anything,
even if they don’t realize it themselves at the time
they are face to face with you-
that is the most amazing thing you can do in a day,
or in a life-time, because the art of giving
is also the art of sharing,
and the art of creating, making, shaping, translating,
raising, facing, saying, aiding,
at the right time, when someone really needs
what you have to offer freely is an alternative
that you don’t have to choose-
it is something you can just do.

Sharing what you have in abundance, to me, is natural,
and if you can possibly do something, anything,
for someone in need- why would you not want to give all that you can?

Begging is not asking,
asking is not begging.
Sometimes doing something in the moment because you can,
and without even thinking, can be the difference
between seeing someone on the ground looking up at you
and you keeping their heart afloat
and their hopes high and their spirits from sinking.
Giving and giving back without expectation-
that is the difference between asking and begging.

There is no greater thing to give,
and there is no greater thing to receive,
there is no greater expression
that you are thinking of someone, than a card-
especially this time of the year;
to me, there is something special,
more so than any gift or present of any size,
about the knowledge that people are in each other’s thoughts
no matter where they live, nor the reality that they don’t talk
or see each other as much as they used to anymore;
to me, knowing that I have picked and written in a card for someone,
and that someone has picked and written in a card especially for me,
means something to me, and because I am who I am
I read light-years into every word, and I pay especial focus and attention
to the ever-present poetry.

I love taking the time to make a card.
I love sitting down while thinking about the person I am writing to,
and letting my feelings and emotions flow from me
and become imbued in the ink that I am writing in.
I love having the gift to be able to express so easily
what others sometimes find hard.
I love retracing my own footprints
and reuniting with old memories of friends and family
at special moments of our shared lives together,
and remembering and reliving those things we have seen,
and returning to the place where we have been.

There is a card for every occasion.
There is a card for everyone.
There is a card to be made in everyone’s imagination.
There is a card to be created that can be a simple sentence
and sentiment that even though it may only be short
can be what you really want to say in a way
that is the culmination of elation, affection, explanation,
and liberation, that needs no translation.

Messages are precious. Time is finite.
What we say sometimes is fast, frenetic,
unforgettable, and often times in a rush.
How we spend our days and hours is often split and divided
between different relationships with very different people that we know,
and it is sometimes hard to know where you are
until you turn out the light at night.

To me, a card- a birthday card, a Christmas card,
a postcard, a get well card, an anniversary card-
is a great and a wonderful thing,
because it is an opportunity, a place, a way,
a method, and a means, that is more special and means more
than a text message, an email, or a phone call-
for some that is the only way they have to reach out
and make contact with someone,
and those messages and calls mean the world,
and being able to share something, anything,
from one person to another is so incredible.

The right card to send someone and the right thing to write inside
can take a lot of thought, but it shouldn’t have to be a science
and it doesn’t have to be a masterpiece of art.
The right message and remark does not have to be the most amazing
and poetic declaration ever written, or ever said-
as long as what you really want to communicate is there for anyone
and all to see and read by anybody who sends, receives,
opens, writes, and reads, something in a card.

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