Listening to the drifting air, the stillness in the trees.

Questioning what makes life matter, perhaps not what it seems.

I feel that I must move; attaining stillness from each step. In the moments when the silence’s noticed, I’m no longer alone.

Each word — born from solitude — breathes the air of what I’m feeling, a presence from the land, the sea, the walls, the distance traveled.

These words come from the dirt beneath my feet, sung by the birds above. Surrendering to the world, I feel at home while lost, found by every passing soul.

A little girl plays in the dirt, seeking buried treasure.

Looking long enough, we’ll find it; perceiving what we’re searching for, ourselves in one another’s eyes.

A man sits on the bench before me. I wonder where he’s from, perhaps he’s on his own, watchful eyes that look for I, have taken him to Lisbon.

Another man approaches and begins to sing a song — he asks a question, and makes the other smile.

Perhaps he made his day. He may have changed his life.

Sitting long enough, you’ll hear the goodness in the world.

Looking long enough, you’ll see it in yourself.