​Yangtze River By The Hudson Ba​y

Cracking of the Deep Winter.  When I saw these cracks on a beautifully and eternally frozen lake, I thought all my

Still Waiting and Hoping.  I had an aunt once, who was far more like my mother, especially when I considered myself as borderline homeless for most of my early childhood years. She would often say, "Oh kid,

The Three of Us. On a crisp and cold afternoon, I found myself in the company of just two men. Sitting across from me a few feet away was an old man holding tightly to his silver cane.  He was leaning against the park bench at a 60-degree angle with much effort, as if sitting had been the most difficult exercise of his day. His hat tilled to one side, and he seemed cold even with layers of winter clothing.  He moaned and labored over every little movement he made in an attempt to be aligned with the fading sun. He would nudge his slumping body towards upright whenever it was about to slip away....

Sitting to my right less than 20 feet away was the second of the two gentlemen  

who were accompanying me this particular autumn day.  He is homeless.  He sat upright looking straight ahead with near zero movement. His hood was pulled over his head, but his full grown and unmannered beards would still irrepressibly protrude out. He did not seem to mind that he was in the shade; nor did he seem to care that the sun was again orbiting away from the earth – and from him.... 


It then occurred to me that I am not too far away from either of them.  Both are exhausted from living – perhaps a full life; one lives without hope, while the other sees no end.  Some times, difference is so minute between lifeless and hopelessness....

Random Thoughts When Alone