I'm walking down these dreary streets - my mind analyzing and looking to cope with reality. How did I ever arrive at this dark hour? My wife left me, and my poor performance at work is instigating my boss to micromanage me.
The cold air whips through my coat like it isn't even there. I huddle deeper into my chest hoping to alleviate the chill that is creeping through my bones.
The darkness seems to grow with the storm clouds in my head. My eyes adjust to the low light as I turn the corner onto Weary Lane - tonight, that name could not be more appropriate. I wonder if things will ever get better. I imagine a new job and new surroundings if only I had more money for a move.
My home comes into sight and a wave of emotions and memories flood over me. My despair and joy mixing like a bittersweet cocktail in my core. The pictures of children dancing on the lawn that I envisioned for years drifting away with the crisp wind. My safe haven is becoming a chamber of shackles enrapturing a man eager to give up the fight.
Whilst wallowing in my discontent, my senses pick up the approach of another being - it is a beggar. His clothes are tattered and his coat barely covers the thin form before me. Yet, his eyes and demeanor leave me stiff in my tracks. I've never seen a man walk so upright, nor seen eyes so brilliant. He looks like a millionaire and walks like a king. He smiles at me as I go by and a magnanimous warmth permeates every inch of my skin. I am left nearly breathless as a wave of disgust washes over me. Do I truly have it so bad? I glance back to see him again and watch him turn the corner away from Weary Lane.
I lay in bed that night and wonder. Is it the moment that makes the man, or is it the man who makes the moment? Did I allow my life to say who I am? Sure, I acted ignorantly and selfish to my wife, but she is not gone yet. Her mother has been gracious enough to keep us talking.
Do I want to leave this earth saying what if? My hands start fidgeting at my side as they ready to write my repentance. Words of the soul begin to fill my fingers and I know I won't fall asleep till the page is full. The fire that sparked in me earlier casts me from the covers. I sit at my desk till there is nothing left to be said, and serenity again enters my home.
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