If Birds Could Speak

They say there are two kind of people in the world, those who do and those who watch. We all want to believe that we "do", and we all want to believe we are the hero of our own story. We want to be the center of the image if not at the very least in frame. But how long do we watch waiting for a moment to take spotlight? How long do we sit and hope that we know the right time?

I've always waited, always watched, always witnessed. Creation, joy, mystery, war, and love. Every time, I'm there sitting in the background eyes wide open feet frozen tongue tied. I've never felt a need to be center. Those who stand out stand tall only until another breaks their ground.

But then I saw her , another face in the shadows. Did she see me , could she see me? Was I ever in focus ever present enough to break free of the background ? I came to know we were entwined in a mutual gaze , a glazed view of smokes passing. And so we became watchers together. It was our story empty as it might have been. Watchers perhaps can be doers if they see themselves as more than weightless feathers in passing wind.