The Old Man and The Bench

An old man sits on an isolated bench.
The world rushes around him,
yet he is still as the mind ceases to be.
I hear him speak inside my heart,
“Can you see the pure divinity all around me?
Look, the frozen heron content on the rock
and the smiling duck who is wet with glee.
The sporadic dance of that petite little robin
and the diamond veil of the sunlight waters.”
I see tears swell in the old man’s eyes,
as if blinded and only seeing for the first time.
I let the demands of the day continue my pace,
leaving this man and his world
full of Beauty and Grace.

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