white-bearded skinny man stands on street corner, clutching a small yellow feather with his left hand, brandishing a blue pack of matches with his right hand. he waves the matches around slowly. he stares fixedly, murmuring or chanting words my headphones block out.
i nod slowly as i walk by.
we're all fighting off the demons as best we can, brother.
i do it through tireless self-analysis.
(though it may in fact be my biggest, nastiest, fiercest demon.)
4 comments:
if you replace the object in either hand with a cell phone, it would be considered completely normal...
angels/demons: sometimes its the same thing
SOMETIMES IT IS WHAT WE DO NOT SAY AS A SOCIETY THAT SPEAKS VOLUMES, RATHER THAN A NOD OR A WINK OR SIMPLY LOOKING THE OTHER WAY.
THESE IMAGES HAUNT THE PEOPLE IN SOCIETY THAT CARE THE MOST. FOR OTHERS, THEY JUST SEE IT AS ANOTHER HOMELESS OR DIRECTIONLESS PERSON.
GERARD ON " THE ROCK"
thank you, commenters - all great points.
angels/demons: quite. one day's demons may be another day's angels. and light could not be light without darkness. and all balance is so delicate and mysterious, we can barely see it. blinded by light, blinded by darkness, we stumble in and out of enlightenment every moment of every day.
it's what makes it all so beautiful, so exciting, so exhausting, so mysterious.
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