There are sad faces
Raising black coffee to their lips
They have lines etched in their faces
That tell of winding and whimsical stories;
Tales of love, of loss, of pain, of peace, of wonder
And I wonder
Do you, dear sir,
Do you sit in sweet silence and believe in the significance of each breath, each step and each thought that meanders through your existence?
And have you heard of the man that picks up rocks?
The man that sees the value and beauty in such a moment, in such an act, in the simplicity of this one motion?
The man that understands that hope and peace lie waiting in a conglomeration of minerals and that to pick up a rock is to give a heart beat to the earth. That to place that rock in its pile causes a river to flow and braid and sweep strangers and loved ones into its embrace.
I hope that you, darling man, get swept up into its rush. And I hope that your sad eyes meet sad eyes and find belonging. And I hope that you too will pick up rocks and feel your heart beat in time with the slow rush of life.
My dear dear friend and I had a coffee date and my heart was very moved watching a very sad eyed elderly man drink a cup of coffee and then wander the roads, seemingly aimless. And my friend told me that her dad, who is kind and quiet and lovely, has a dream to complete a project that he needs lots of rocks for, so whenever he sees a nice rock he picks it up and adds it to his pile, despite most of his family telling him that he is wasting his time with his dreams and needs to just focus on the farm work. And I was extremely touched by that story.