Armed with a listless gaze, I peer down. Down, down, into the concrete city of lights. For too long, I have remained, a nameless silhouette perched upon a sojourning cloud, staring into the souls of all those who walked beneath me. Watching. Observing, with a single purpose: to discover the human’s reason for living. To trace but a single frayed thread in the grand tapestry of humanity; To understand what it is, precisely, that compels a man to stand, to live.
But I have not succeeded. I have seen a billion men draw purpose from a trillion different wells, yet only a negligible fraction are able to quench their thirst. I have seen men treat belief systems like they would a hand-me-down sweater, blindly dressing their minds with the pre-packaged ideologies of their outmoded ancestors. I have seen men congregate in swarms in the name of culture, crafting arbitrary brotherhoods and inking their flesh with symbols of deluded self-importance. I have seen thoughtful and accomplished men wither into lustful snakes, forever enslaved by the sensuous friction of skin on skin.
I have heard the song of the happy man. I have also seen these songs become eclipsed by dissonant requiems and mournful cries. And I am disheartened.
How confusing it must be, to live a human life. To choose, with every passing second, what to do and how to do it. To be an ethereal soul, yearning to explore infinity, captured within and bounded by the limits of corporeal flesh, yearning to sleep for a few minutes longer. How painful it must be, to dream a fantasy, then wake. To be loved, then to be loved no longer.
For now, I will continue to observe, in hopes that I might one day be able to sing for myself the song of the happy man. Until then, I will continue to remain here. To watch. To observe.