Humanity Lost

There is a big concrete city cold and soulless. In it the lack of sensitivity makes the purest and most hopeful dreams are a mere illusion of dark shadows and fuzzy face.

I have traveled in my eagerness to live. I saw in her the pain of a nonexistent future, the end of a day without reward. However, the strength of the human soul is great, and the continuous passing of time as a burst of morning breeze awakens the desire and craving the next day. Uncertainty that arises when the first ray of pure light emanating from an ancient star tenderly caresses the face of strong features and crystal eyes open any heart, even if the stone out.

I can see, hear and even smell them. They come in all sizes, fat, thin-skinned, brown and black. I can see their faces, in them the symmetry is proud of his despotism and the spirit of beauty rarely accompanies them. They are the inhabitants of the city. They are the blood that moves and gives life to this city of metal and concrete.

The bustle of a day for these people is part of life they have chosen. Some give a broader sense your emotions and life expectancy. For these people life is a miracle full of beautiful colors and perpetual sunny days. There is no future because the present is everything. Living close to nature in almost perfect harmony. They share every joy without selfishness or resentment. They are able to forgive up the offense more cruel and offensive. They can see all the beauty that displays an average day. Of looking at the color and spirit of the trees, the immensity of the sky and the intense and joyful singing of the birds. From their perspective, the world is a miracle so extraordinary as life itself. I have been fortunate to know a few like them. If possible try to imitate them. But how difficult it is to do so.

But life is responsible, either by chance or wisdom, teach us the reality as it is devoid of any makeup and mascara. Thus, in one of the many paths that I do in the city, in a typical afternoon of that dream Barquisimeto (Venezuela province), I could see an old woman sitting on a sidewalk with his hand firmly extended. My first impression, totally alien to my emotions, was somehow helping the elderly. I stopped for a few seconds or minutes or even hours, you really never know. To contemplate with deep detail.

The grandmother had to have some eighty years sitting with hand lay up firmly on hold for the charity. Most impressive was his perfect stoicism, his body quiet, unyielding to the world. He did not move one iota. Screaming in silence as I'm here I'm part of the world, please help exist. His gaze fixed on a face marked by wrinkles and dirty was lost in the endless ride through the lonely roads of indifference.

Even when I did my best to avoid it, I could not stop the tears flowed from my eyes without respite. I looked across the street and take a deep breath, hoping that other passers-by there had not been noticed. Still I did not care. In my mind, spent thousands of things, feelings, anger, resentment, frustration, etc.

I wondered how could a human being, a single cosmic wonder and infinite beauty would be in that situation. I felt helpless at the situation, a single grain in this universe without the ability to solve anything. I approached to her and put a ticket on it. I quickly away from that place. The anger consumed my whole being, my soul and my own reality.

Come to my house and cry alone. I had to do it as the only way to release all that emptiness inside that ran through my body and my heart pounded without mercy. I did not understand the emotions I felt. But I discovered that the reality of the city was the nightmare of all dark and gloomy.

There are moments when I remember that old and I wonder if he's still there. If you eat every day, if you keep the rain from the cold, etc. I have not seen since. I hope God can offer solidarity in this world was denied. I'm sure it will.

From this event awoke from lethargy and senseless agony that the city had imposed on me. There was only one way to rectify that involved all my emotions and feelings, projecting to others. That they are like drops of fresh rain and expected to make it change the realities of color and shape.

This ever-challenging and destructive reality makes dreams of those who have little, an unattainable utopia. But I still think that the sensitivity that lives in each one of us will be waking up slowly. Maybe someday we may attach a white dress. Everyone will see and respect.

From that moment we will see small miracles absent in the old reality. Solidarity with the suffering such a shame, illness or loss of a loved one. It will be a new awakening of spiritual consciousness. Conversion of souls, feelings and act in this big theater called city. Perhaps in the end we realize that any journey of discovery leads to one final, where we expect God with all his love and infinite compassion.

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