the meaning of... LIFE?

 As I walk down the mean streets of San Francisco, I hear that all too familiar cry "spare change?".  Then I am thronged by  frail and many times needle bruised arms reaching out to me from dark corners and from underneath damp cardboard.Their bodies dirty and unwashed and their teeth the colour of stagnant water. Yet when I look into their eyes I see a spark and they want to live.

I have often arrogantly thought " well, if I were homeless I would do this or that... ". The truth is that I do not know what I would do in that situation. Reflecting upon my own station in life, I for the first time in my existance realize that with the lack of but one paycheck I could be joining them in their broken journey.

Often I have joked that if I were homeless, I would live in a beautiful box... but dont I now live in a beautiful box? The difference is that I pay rent and they dont. I know I am lucky  to have a room with a door, but I keep thinking and thinking. I sometimes think that in that situation, I would jump off a bridge.... or would I?  Perhaps I would I cling to the meager existance of collecting cans so i could get a beer.

I see them, the unknown masses, as they huddle under dark over hangs or sleeping at the bus stop. They want to live and  yet sometimes CEOs do not want too. To he whom much is given, much is required.

I must figure out the spark that lies within all living beings. Are we afraid of death because of fear of the unknown or are we afraid to die because of what will happen to us after we die.


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