Its forging furnace, its aching din, the agony tempered him; but, he continued to walk. He walked along the sidewalk, the path to… somewhere. Out there, the world, the city, as it appeared, minded it’s own melodic melancholy. But he was walking, still, now, within himself – looking, searching, wanting among the bustling metropolis. And while abreast to his inner thoughts and feelings, he continued his journey, aware of… something. Something. Amid his inner rindle, grew a stream. It flowed, from deeper, outward, taking him somewhere; it’s reflecting surface, like a wise friend of antiquity, mirrored his most glowing insight: Within the stillness of all movement, of all change, rests the continuity of contentment; whence, all want can scarcely survive.

Sweetly, the eternal bloom of his being, the stillness stirred. It’s emerging current peacefully whispered: release her.

A sparrow landed in front of him relieving the sidewalk of whatever it deemed essential for it’s survival, and then flew off. His thoughts and feelings, suspended in limbo, he watched the bird ascend away; it’s freedom struck him with curious awe.

Notwithstanding, the pain…again. Now, confused; no, worse than that – incapacitated!…impotent! Trying to find his balance, he aimed to focus. Vague silhouettes, shadows of doubt, made menace of his mirth. Others…out there, now giving him a wider birth, walked towards him on the path, some, with him. Among the throngs of anxious others’ hasting around him – he was scared! Again, he labored, time and time again, to orient himself; but, in fact, he seemed blind to all clarity. He proposed to speak but to no avail. Others regarded him as not their problem. Mounting frustration and anxiety became his realty! He could hear them, he could sense them – they were talking about him… about his obvious discomfiture of not able to function properly – yet… nobody offered to help him? His ability to navigate before him was checked to a point of almost complete dysfunction. He could not safely gather himself about anymore. Hamstrung to see his situation plausible to a rational resolve, he clung to what felt like a railing of some sort – somewhere! Shaken, feeling isolated, pondering his wilting spirit whilst hearing the rabble and babble of an acrimonious crowd lurching by him, he covered his ears to their world of indifferent malevolence. And, although some appeared to show sympathy, their vulgar form of empathy aping cursory interest, as of puzzled puppets, confirmed their pontifical narcissism .

He was alone.

Then, the stillness stirred again, like a familiar grace, it reassured him. So peaceful, so quiet, so still, melting his will of want to nothing. It held him; it nourished him. As he stood there on the sidewalk, grace holding him and him holding grace; the fabricated storm swirled around them. He began to cry. He could hear sparrows near by. Grace continued to hold him, softly, sweetly, whispering into his ear, it said: surrender.

Lucidity returned. The first thing he beheld through whetted eyes was how beautiful the world is…out here. He had returned.

Randy Quickfall ღƪ(ˆ◡ˆ)ʃ ☼

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