He ran outside to breathe in the life of summer. The smell of flowers in full bloom, the feel of sunshine kissing his skin and the scent of water vapor thick upon the air declared to all who would dare pay attention that the solstice was beckoning them to bask in it's glory.
Young and relentless, inspired and hopeful he gazed upon the concrete canvas with his heart burning for the Love within his chest. With colors as varied as the flowers in the fields, he began to create. Shapes began to take form as lines began bending and twisting in artistic patterns with intent and purpose. The imagery of Passion took form in iconic symbols representing a sacrifice of utmost cost.
He poured his soul out upon the ground with such intense purpose. Purpose begot design. Design begot splendor. Splendor begot worship; worship of the One whom all life seemed to originate.
I stood there for a while watching as this artist decorated the sidewalk with imagination and adoration. His arms moving across the ground with ebb and flow. He had such a singular focus upon his creative masterpiece.
From a distance I admired the youthful glow of hope that exuded from this boy.
His eyes were the most telling. One look would melt the hardest of hearts and sooth such a ragged, vagabond soul like mine. In his eyes I saw such an innocence that only seemed like a faint memory for this ragamuffin.
I had to move closer.
I seemed to drift towards the boy without taking steps as if he had a gravitational vortex drawing me closer to him. As I began to approach the young boy, I noticed his hands were now covered in dust from the chalk creation being displayed upon the warm concrete. His knees were now a palette of colors too. Like a rainbow had gently caressed his leg with swirls of hues and tints only found in nature.
I now stood in front of him.
My shadow gracefully blanketed his artistic expressions of lines, shapes and tints. But this did not disrupt our young artisan as he continued to author his worshipful masterpiece.
Something captivated me about this boy.
Was it his passion or creativity? Was it the art now on display on his concrete canvas? What was it about this boy that piqued my curiosity and hypnotized my heart?
He slowly stopped his design of intent and purpose to look up at me.
There it was...
The thing that encapsulated my heart and fascinated my intellect. The thing that summoned my soul to gaze upon him with adoration. The thing most emanating from him was hope; hope that radiated from his heart through his eyes as clearly as the bright summer sun in the sky.
I got lost in those eyes for what seemed to be an eternity.
He slowly rose to his feet and stood up facing me. Although he did not stand more that a few feet tall, his low stature seemed grand in that moment.
His face. His face was familiar. A ghost of an image from the past that I could not readily identify but that I knew so well. It was like looking at an old friend whose life story was an open book and I knew every chapter. I was well acquainted with this boy.
His hands began to break free from his side as he started to move towards me without hesitation. I knelt down bracing myself on one knee as his body collided with mine. We embraced like a daddy and son.
I stood up lifting him from the ground with his heart beating rhythmically against my chest. His head resting gently on my shoulder. His hair brushing up against my cheek. His arms wrapped around my neck like a scarf.
I began to weep.
Sobbing with tears streaming down my face wetting his blond hair, I began to whisper, "It's ok. Everything will be ok. I missed you and I love you... David."
I clutched my childhood boy with love. He was the boy of myself that I had lost over the years. The boy whose hope spoke of a world not his home. The boy whose love knew no bounds. The boy whose innocence... whose innocence was pure, undefiled, and trusting.
We stood there for an eternity and I never let go.
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composed by
dave
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