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  • I crunched through the dry field of hay, stopping to look at the swamp teaming with life. A Bald Eagle flew overheard, and I stopped in silence, mesmerized.
    A saw a meager man, sitting on a bench, staring at the water with hollow eyes.
    Our dogs started to play together, and his soul readily burst open in relief, spilling his toxic waster all over me.
    He had stumbled upon his treasure for the day, a willing ear, a person with the patience to listen. He had been praying for that.

    I wear my heart on my sleeve, it can be seen for miles. It is just where God stitched it onto me, and I have not been able to relocate it.
    I try to shield it, cover it with hard shells, or distractions, yet I still feel more of the world than most. It takes careful attention from me for my heart not to simply run off on its own agenda.
    So I tried to stand perfectly still and just listen. Standing in the sun, watching the dogs dance, I listened. My gift to him.

    He was bound inside by greed, the nurturing he never got, and the fact that nature had given him a set of circumstances that cast him into a pool of living that was unequivocally hard.
    He needed a Mom, a Mommy. He had a Mother. He wanted someone she could never be, someone she never was.
    He had advanced stages of prostrate cancer, he was on disability, he was unemployed, his brother lived at the mental hospital, he had no friends, no job. The Mexicans were to blame.
    His heart was dark, and distant, detached.
    His angst was blamed on the people that have crossed him, left him, derailed his life. Blame - bound his soul from living.

    I left and I walked far, and long. What makes a person become so lost, so hopeless, yet able to wake up every morning and continue a semblance of this thing we call life.
    He was just a shadow of a soul. One that was bound and wound so tight that he himself did not know his own existence.
    Meager Man, I pray that you find you way.
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