I'm in LA right now, working on a gig (do we call it a "gig" at Oracle...? Guess I better check with legal on that one).
I'm on the 25th floor of my room.... watching the sun go down and the city lights come on... I look out in the distance and I wonder about all the people out there. I wonder what they are doing... some are still working, some have just gotten home for dinner, some are putting their kids to bed. Some are crying over a lost loved one tonight, others joyful over the birth of a child. Some are lonely, some are getting it on like wild. Some are just sitting and watching TV, and some are working out, sweating to the oldies.
Some, like me, are just sitting out and watching the sea of humanity and wondering what will come next. Dwelling on what was, what could have been and what could be. Life, passing by, one tick after another, and yet with the loudness of society it is still so quiet, so still, so lonely sometimes, isn't it?
And I look up, at the few stars that I can see from here, and I wonder if there are others like us out there. Do they feel, do they hurt, to they cry tears and feel joy? Do they suffer or do they have powers we don't even begin to understand. I wonder if I was born before my time, for I so wish to travel those vast distances and see all the wonders of the universe. I want to see other planets, other species of life.... I want to see all those things.
Also as I look out, I miss those who are gone. My mother, taken from me.... my family all growing up and moving about... getting married and some living far away from me. Missing and lonely, traveling about but not feeling complete.
I still live with my depression you see.... I still find it my silent partner, walking with me, whispering to me songs of lonesomeness, songs of longing, songs of frustration and wistfulness. A desire to magically transform all at the sound of my voice, so that all will be right with the world. So that all will be in it's proper place, in it's proper prospective.
And the sun goes down, and night comes. The lovers love or they quarrel. The widow sits alone, silent waiting to return to her loved one. The children sleep dreaming of mickey mouse, Donald duck or a cat named Clifford. Men sit in prison, guilty and innocent. Their wives and children thinking of them, loving them. It is a world that goes on and on, lives in the millions and I sit here, from the 25th story and silently observe them in my mind, and watch the lights as they twinkle.
Good night America.....