Look around you. Do you see?
This is life. Normal, everyday life.

Of course, we see things differently, you and I. We have different experiences and different backgrounds. We come from two different worlds and somehow, you and I have ended up here together, as in at the same time, and here we are, together, as in right here and right now.

I believe that this is how destiny works. Or perhaps this fate. Or maybe this is something cosmic, which is how I choose to see this, or how I choose to see us. I have to choose to see us this way.
Otherwise, life is nothing more than a tasteless series of random occasions and time as I know it is nothing more than a chain of empty portholes, which are moments that are nothing more than meaningless.

Aside from knowing what I see, I don’t know what life is like through somebody else’s eyes. I don’t know what love is like to anyone else. I don’t know what it’s like to feel the sensation of touch through someone else’s skin.
But I’d like to.
I’d like to understand but, at the same time, all I can do is ask. All I can do is listen and try to relate; but still, all I’ll ever know is my perception. 

Before we go forward, this is not about religion.
This might not be for everyone. However, this is written for those who find themselves “out there” and without any hope.
This is a little piece about hope and salvation but not the typical kind.
This is about redemption and forgiveness and the doubt that forgiveness could ever be possible.

Tell me something good.
Tell me something beautiful about the world like the way the beach looks in the morning. Know what I mean?
Tell me what the beach looks like, just about the time when the sun is coming up and all you can hear are the seagulls in the wind and the waves that hit the sands. There’s no one around and there’s nothing to disturb the moment.

Tell me something that comes without anger or hate. Tell me something that would appeal to the ears of anyone who is tired of the norm.
Tell me something about anything other than violence or the crime rate in the City. Please, tell me. I really want to hear it.

Daylight switches to dusk and night becomes the morning.
I’ve written this before yet it’s as though I’ve never said this out loud.
Before we know it, days have gone by (sometimes weeks or even months and then it’s years) and there we are, standing there with our questions and wondering about the things we missed. We find ourselves at an understanding time that’s slipped through our fingers like the finest sand from some distant beach.