No two faces are the same - but you knew that already. A few might be eerily similar, the odd difference in cheekbone or eye colour or intensity of gaze. Gets me thinking about the history of the world and how these strangers might, in some distant way, be connected. Maybe itís just crumb-sized coincidences. Some are clearly in control; they know where they are going, they have purpose and they wonít be stopped in their tracks. Clear determination in the features. To them, Iím unimportant and a moth to be batted out the the way of their relentless agenda. Some are on the way to this citified, constant glory, not quite sure that they can make it. Others again are just drifting, keeping going even though itís really hard in the mornings especially when thereís no warmth and even less light. Holding it together and running past the same stop every single day, plundering the same route. Chugging this topsy-turvy rhythm and following some mad light thatís possibly faith or expectancy.
But itís there, usually on these sultry, dream-damaged, smoggy pre-hours, that the strongest force comes, even with the jealousies or insecurities trying to batter me, the false loves, the bittersweet glories, and that a greater bond, and where a better success comes - a soul mate sweetener. Iím gasping for air. Right in front of me is the clang of human flesh. Then, like a computer game, thereís the gradual incline of the horizon: recognisable landmarks splashed over the distance. What a sight! Still a lot of options, although - once more - the fantastic buildings are out of touch, I can see the bulbs where some late-night legends might be working. Yet itís too far, too early for the clarity I crave. The endless city surrounds me in warm noise but I struggle to erase the traces of not-forgotten ghosts that live in the creaking lights-off nighttime of things.
© Copyright 2016 John Maher