There was once a man
who's entire life was
simply
a series of good-byes.

As tragic as his day was -
and equally
as wonderful,
the man learnt never to
feel for too long
because soon he would be
left with nothing.

And so he adjusted his life
accordingly
and allowed the crowd to blend
and the smiles or the frowns
to blur,
and soon his world was grey.

So each bleak,
garden variety day
the man would wake up
and work
and sleep.
Even the color in his dreams
oozed out and was forgotten.

Until one day,
while walking down a
not so special street,
during a lukewarm day,
in the middle of a city
with an ordinary name,
the man stubbed his toe -

Lighting pain shot
straight through the man
and outwards.

Looking up through tears the
man was temporarily blinded -
first the the red of pain,
but soon red was complimented with
blues so bright the man shielded his
eyes from the sky,
and greens so rich,
the grass seemed to breath and glow.
And the man realized he had
been forced to feel again,
forced to open his eyes and see
the world around him,
see the earth and the sky
and the people.
People.
People everywhere.
smiling and walking and talking and driving.
He had forgotten in his haste to
protect his heart
to use it.

And on that day,
while walking down a
very special street,
during a warm autumn day,
in the middle of a city
that had so much to offer,
I
woke
up

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