Out of Phase (4/25/01)

I see their mouths move as they hurry by
yet I hear no sound from their lips
I only hear the rushing cascade of water
falling from the fountain behind me

Their eyes do not see me -
They see only where they are going.

I breathe in the scent of the coming rain
as clouds drift lazily yet swiftly
in from the northwest
I feel the scent of the rain as if it were an entity unto itself

Maybe that is what makes me so different

so invisible I am, as I sit here on this worn wooden bench,
that hardly anyone could see me, even if they knew to look

They all have their eyes on the finish line

And like the scent of rain, I am out of phase with the rest of reality

If it can be called that -
for is not reality something we have a hand in creating for ourselves?

Did I step out on choice?

Did my own actiosn grant me the bittersweet ability
to watch the world as it goes by,
eyes on the goal?

Am I only to simply watch?

Nay, though I be a watcher, I, too, have a goal, somewhere out there.

but as I sit here smiling a greeting to the scent of the rain,
I realize that being out of phase simply blesses me with the joy of being able to enjoy the scenery -
the road that takes me there and all it has to offer.
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