I don't write much these days because I find life mundane.
Either there is too much struggle which doesn't afford you a break to reflect. Or there's just nothing else.
So I don't write.
But today I realized that there is still something that wakes me out of this stupor.
There are a few people.
I pass by them regularly. Mostly on social media these days. Or find a picture of them somewhere. Or see a book they like. These people I speak of, I realize, haven't given up on the zest they are made of. They are not necessarily happy. In fact, I presume them to be some of the most dissatisfied souls who wanted more from life. From this world. But I see them burning. I see them alive. It shakes me up a little every time, when I find that the flame hasn't died down. I wonder what they're made of.
It seems like the entire concentration of their beings is focused one tiny dot. One crazy thought. One sane idea. For which they look like, when time comes, they will lay down their lives. For an idea. Even if it becomes nothing else but that idea.
I see that madness and it makes me think. Pause. Remember.
I was always born on the sidelines, I think of myself. I haven't been able to achieve much. I'm not like them...these men I'm talking about. But they inspire me. For a second, they clutch my heart. With a line, a picture, with presence or sometimes, their absence. I feel this very deeply.
I have nothing to offer in return I guess. But I must acknowledge that this is one of the deepest reveries in me.
I acknowledge them.
And if one of them reads this, I acknowledge you.
