I see you sitting. So focused in what you are doing. I notice the wind that passes you. But, I don’t think it notices you. The air we breathe is so honest. It has not been polluted from the people we used to know. This confident world, the burning stars are just a way of reflecting an image. This beauty to what we see. It’s not how it’s been seen, but on how it moves and feels. It’s the combination of pure passion and love. It’s like we look down on the world’s soul. This movement, racing to the next life. Giving birth to a soul we can feel. A memory. One to live with us forever. It’s a right that has no price. It’s not for money or people. It’s for the world. My eyes show me so much that I wonder, why do I still need to see? These questions that come to mind can be asked by anyone. The answers could be answered by anyone. But, only I can be the one to understand. Just through simple vision, a plain man’s sight. We can see the protection that nature offers. It’s a barrier yet, also a glass that is always being filled. It’s a circle of continuous power. It shows the true meanings of valuing life that when death arrives and brings that darkness into our body and overpowers our will to survive and until that very last thought do we say. Well, what do we say? We can’t always think when our body is being pressed against the burning coals. The only thought would be pain and how to get out of that rapid blazing fire. The warmth of a fire is no warmer than the sun. Yet, just because it’s here doesn’t mean it’s an image. I stand back. I wonder. I stare. I have seen. Now, I ask myself one more thing. Does she feel that wind blowing?
By Mikhail Mohammed