yelled.
âEverythingâs good my man. Iâm about to read a poem to my new friendsâ he said with a smile.
All of us laughed a little.
We had already been hooked.
âThis poem is entitled the Auto-Biographical, Biography of Happiness Santiago. Itâs a love story for the most p ar t.â And h e screamed:
âHappiness!â
It was one of those days, where everything lines up in the city.
The music from cars driving by moves in step with
young people boppinâ their heads.
The sun bounces from window to window
brightening the shade wh ile the smells fr o m
the various nearby eateries choose not to compete,
instead opt ing
to unify in the name of . . .
âI was born like yâallâ
he continued.
âI donât think I need to explain , and everything else is history . Like the essays of a wanderer with a full heart and warm mind.Breathing has been a pleasure from day one. From this very action Iâve been brought to you. My purpose? To clarify the feelings that youâve always understood in the far reaches of your sub-conscious, sub-zero recesses of the subways of th e forgotten co r ners of yo u r mind. My heartâs been lifted to share the opportunity of your hopes and dreams. Mine have been remembered in the reflections of the crystal balls you call your eyes . I am a child playing on a jungle gym, running carelessly in the afternoon shade, not afraid to keep going until I collapse from the joy of satisfactory exhaustedness. And itâs obvious to me that you are no different. In fact I can hear your heartbeats skipping Double Dutch as we speak.
âItâs important to note that I am not hiding. That although I find it my personal mission to run through the wind while the river is running beside me, I am not running from anything. I am flying towards my future and fully a part of the present. As I look at what appears to be a tear building up in the outside corner of your left eye, I want to be clear. Make no mistake my brothers and sisters; Iâve seen some of the darkest moments that pupils could possibly bring into focus. I never pretend differently . Iâm not frozen into submission by events that have already passed, implanting them, with my invitation, squarely in the center of my tomorrow. I will have none of that. And this is the only thing in life that I can control. My lung capacity is temporary but my ability to carve a new path remains infinite as long as my name remains Happiness.â
We all soaked it in mesmerized by the words of a stranger, slightly embarrassed at our obvious vulnerability .
âI love all of youâ
He said with enough conviction that it felt completely sincere.
âI love men and women and the more the merrierâ
Each of us blushed at his clear lack of inhibition.
âIâm here right now with you my friends, aware of all of the complexities that make up the human existence. Or at least as many aspects as Iâve been introduced to thus far. If I had only one sentence to say, merely a handful of words to share, I would say remember me. I apologize if my thoughts come across as arrogant . That is certainly not my intention. Itâs just that I am very certain that I am you. And if my intuition is true then you will never forget yourself. And you will cherish each other. And if I never see you again, it wonât matter because I will be remembered in the beat of y our heart , your reflection in the mirror, in the reaction of your cells as you raise your hand to touch your cheek. Donât worry anymore. Because tomorrow is alive in this unique second and you are alive. The same way you have always been. I expect that it feels different but the difference lies in the possibilities, not in your present smiles. Your light-heartedness is the consecutive addition of a million separate moments and theyâve convened with us on this afternoon at this intersection of c on cr e te and flesh.
âEverythingâs good my man. Iâm about to read a poem to my new friendsâ he said with a smile.
All of us laughed a little.
We had already been hooked.
âThis poem is entitled the Auto-Biographical, Biography of Happiness Santiago. Itâs a love story for the most p ar t.â And h e screamed:
âHappiness!â
It was one of those days, where everything lines up in the city.
The music from cars driving by moves in step with
young people boppinâ their heads.
The sun bounces from window to window
brightening the shade wh ile the smells fr o m
the various nearby eateries choose not to compete,
instead opt ing
to unify in the name of . . .
âI was born like yâallâ
he continued.
âI donât think I need to explain , and everything else is history . Like the essays of a wanderer with a full heart and warm mind.Breathing has been a pleasure from day one. From this very action Iâve been brought to you. My purpose? To clarify the feelings that youâve always understood in the far reaches of your sub-conscious, sub-zero recesses of the subways of th e forgotten co r ners of yo u r mind. My heartâs been lifted to share the opportunity of your hopes and dreams. Mine have been remembered in the reflections of the crystal balls you call your eyes . I am a child playing on a jungle gym, running carelessly in the afternoon shade, not afraid to keep going until I collapse from the joy of satisfactory exhaustedness. And itâs obvious to me that you are no different. In fact I can hear your heartbeats skipping Double Dutch as we speak.
âItâs important to note that I am not hiding. That although I find it my personal mission to run through the wind while the river is running beside me, I am not running from anything. I am flying towards my future and fully a part of the present. As I look at what appears to be a tear building up in the outside corner of your left eye, I want to be clear. Make no mistake my brothers and sisters; Iâve seen some of the darkest moments that pupils could possibly bring into focus. I never pretend differently . Iâm not frozen into submission by events that have already passed, implanting them, with my invitation, squarely in the center of my tomorrow. I will have none of that. And this is the only thing in life that I can control. My lung capacity is temporary but my ability to carve a new path remains infinite as long as my name remains Happiness.â
We all soaked it in mesmerized by the words of a stranger, slightly embarrassed at our obvious vulnerability .
âI love all of youâ
He said with enough conviction that it felt completely sincere.
âI love men and women and the more the merrierâ
Each of us blushed at his clear lack of inhibition.
âIâm here right now with you my friends, aware of all of the complexities that make up the human existence. Or at least as many aspects as Iâve been introduced to thus far. If I had only one sentence to say, merely a handful of words to share, I would say remember me. I apologize if my thoughts come across as arrogant . That is certainly not my intention. Itâs just that I am very certain that I am you. And if my intuition is true then you will never forget yourself. And you will cherish each other. And if I never see you again, it wonât matter because I will be remembered in the beat of y our heart , your reflection in the mirror, in the reaction of your cells as you raise your hand to touch your cheek. Donât worry anymore. Because tomorrow is alive in this unique second and you are alive. The same way you have always been. I expect that it feels different but the difference lies in the possibilities, not in your present smiles. Your light-heartedness is the consecutive addition of a million separate moments and theyâve convened with us on this afternoon at this intersection of c on cr e te and flesh.
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