Surviving not living

The man step to his petal stood and looked over the crowd,

He saw what we most never see,

A crowd not of living beings,

But a crowd of surviving beings,

For what is really living,

Is really living sitting in a cubical creating programs and documents for the company to use? The man asked.

Many of the people did not respond,

Is really living working just to get three days off at the end of the month?

Again many of the people did not respond.

Is really living working for 50 years just to be told that you have to pay more bills even though the money is short and thin since you are frail not to work again?

Again many of the people did not answer.

Then the man asked, why are we here, today,

Why are we standing here before me listening to me?

This is not living, though I can not tell you the answer of really living,

I can tell you that this is not it,

This is surviving,

Not living,

When I look into your eyes, I see a soul,

A sad soul,

A worried soul that if she or he can not get enough hours of work time the next day is afraid she or he will get fired.

And that isn’t what we want,

But is it really,

I’ve stopped working,

I’ve stop worrying about if I’m going to have food the next day,

I’ve stopped worrying if I look great the next day,

I’ve stopped doing all the things that require me to not live.

This is what I call really living,

To not be bounded to anything or anyone,

To watch the world pass as I grow old and forgotten,

I sit on the street corner,

I watch the white spotted pigeon peck at a few crumbs on the ground before taking off,

I watch the cars come and go,

I watch the sky turn from pink to blue, to pink once more before it turns dark.

This is what I call living,

To release yourself from all that binds you to humanity.