Everything
I am reading a book
I am reading in the sun.
I feel the sun on my skin
I feel the cover of the book in my hands
A gentle breeze passes by
The leaves rustle and I turn the page
The page is smooth to touch and rough also
I look at the ink that make up the words
The ink in the words is black
Intensely black
Then suddenly, unexpectedly a green bottle fly lands on the page
It is walking, taking quick steps, slight steps on the page
As if inspecting the words
These black words on this white page.
I sit motionless, watching the fly
I feel somehow privileged simply to watch
The green of its body,
And what a green it is!
The green is a green that is polished to perfection
It starts to rub its hind legs
Entwining them, smoothly, effortlessly
Now disentangling them
Now it starts to caress its eyes with its front legs.
And what eyes it has!
Intricate and vast.
Now its hind legs go over its wings
And what wings it has!
Delicate, light, transparent
And now it stands still.
I watched this spectacle unfold before me
I watched as a guest, an onlooker
To hell with this book that I read
No sentences, no words can compare to this fly
The majesty that stands still on this page
This fly is here, now
It is real, living
It has colour and vigour
This here, this aliveness, is what I have been searching for in books
I now realise that I have been searching for everything
And now it is here.
Everything is here, now.
I want to stand here for a while
I want to stand here for a while
I am not thinking of anything in particular
I am not doing anything in particular
I just want to stand here for a while
I can feel my breath
It enters and leaves me
Enters and leaves me
Enters and leaves me
As I stand here for a while.
I feel also my fingertips
They are cold
And occasionally they touch the rim of my coat
I see also, things, as they pass me by
A bird flying
A cloud floating
A leaf falling
All these things happen as I stand here for a while
But I am not thinking of anything in particular
Neither am I reflecting on things
I am thinking, nothing
As I stand here for a while
It’s okay take your time
I don’t need to be anywhere at the moment
I’m not busy
I’m not running late for any meetings or appointments
And I’m not at all in a rush
I’m not, as you say, pushed for time
I’m not double booked or double anything
So, it’s okay, take your time
I don’t need to be anywhere apart from where I am now
That is
On this park bench
Finishing off this apple
Avoiding the seeds and the plastic bits in the middle,
There is no bin
So, I hold the remains of it in my right hand
And I remember, I too have been late on many occasions
I too have missed out on things
Missed the boat so to speak
Golden opportunities, once in a lifetime chances, openings, breaks
Too Late, too old, too today and too tomorrow.
So it’s okay, take your time.
And I realise you could also be late
To meet me and to see me
And I realise you may have missed the bus, the train, the plane, that lift
I realise you may be stuck in traffic and its rush hour and it’s all a little impossible
So, it’s okay, be an hour late, 2 hours, 3, 4
Postpone meeting me, take a rain cheque, delay it for next time, the time after
Next week, next month, next year, it’s all fine.
But you’ll find me where you left me, sat here on this park bench, holding the remains of the apple now in my left hand.
So please take your time I’m in no rush.
Something is missing
Although I have everything
There is something missing
Although I have my health, my wealth, my family and friends
Yet there is something missing
Although I have a good job, a good wife, a nice house, a nice car
Still there is something missing
Although all my faculties are in working order, I can think for myself, go for walks on my own daydream, sleep, eat
Yet there is something missing
I’m not behind on repayments or loans or credit cards
I don’t owe money to anyone, no one owes me anything
I’m not depressed, sad or down on my luck
And It’s not happiness because I see that now and again.
And It’s not love, I feel that now and again.
And It’s not wealth, I have enough of that now and again.
So, what is it that’s missing?
I can’t seem to put my finger on it
It is in the way in which a chance touch of a strangers hand brushes mine
The thing that is missing in me, is in there somewhere.
It is in the way I can feel cold water going through my body when I am thirsty
The thing that is missing in me, is in there somewhere.
It is in the way in which I can feel the warm sun on my face after a long cold winter
The thing that is missing in me, is in there somewhere.
And it is in the way the sunlight enters my room and casts its patch of sunlight onto the carpet and I can see the dust particles floating inside it
The thing that is missing in me, is in there somewhere.
You may understand or you may not
But the thing that is missing are all in there somewhere.
@artist_nadeemb