Contributor: Dustin Murdach
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A man stands, outside in the dark
In a busy part of town, he quenches the vacancy of a dark parking lot
A dead end
The empty dumpster behind him, his only friend
The only thing in this populated, well lit, busy town that is even aware of the man's existence, this dumpster
The whole world completely unaware of this man or what has brought him here
It's dark
He carries three heavy bags tied all around him, he is a bell hop of loneliness
One on his back, one hanging from the front
And one held at his waist
The heaviest one, making it obvious that the ground is an old friend that hasn't been seen in a long time
The bag craves to let gravity do its job, but the man refuses
Until he reaches his new acquaintance
An empty dumpster, in a dark parking lot, at a dead end, in a busy town
Well lit and populated indeed
He carries 3 bags
With all that he has
He drags his whole life, his existence, inch by inch, step by step
Avoiding any set destination
For upon arriving at a chosen location, the reality hits that there's nothing there
Nothing more, than where you were before
And where you'll be, eventually
No guess work, no trying to think of where to go
Direction deceived this man long ago
Drifting with the wind
Intuition
An honest friend
Maybe this way better than that
Either way, you are where you're at
Standing by an empty dumpster, the man waits
For guidance, for feeling
For the sake of not moving
The breeze light, warm, and unafraid to embrace a total stranger
It gathers him up, wraps around him like a trauma blanket given at the scene of an accident
Reassuring him
Telling him he's lonely, but not alone
For the man has no way of feeling others
For they know not of him
Yet the wind is known, and felt by all, but can never feel a single one
How fragile the embrace of something that can only give, not be seen, asks nothing in return, and keeps us constantly reminded of its existence
For the breeze has touched every man, woman, and child who has ever walked atop this earth
And is connecting everyone, at all times
For the gust that just brushed your face, was the very same that helped build this place
That soft breeze flowing through your hair, is a universal blessing that we all share
The very same that Jesus, Einstein, Da Vinci, and all the great men of history, is now, and always, embracing a perfect stranger
The same breeze that graced every great man, is embracing you now, just wave your hand
For the men who have been written as having the greatest impact on the world, are all but strangers to the breeze
They are but the same to the wind
Men who were worshiped by millions, even men, with only a dumpster as a friend.
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Hello my name is Dustin Murdach. I'm 25 years old and live in Southern Illinois. Thank you for reading.
