That Garza Boy

As one casts a longer shadow on this spinning orb you find yourself ready and waiting, even anticipating the most innate moment of stillness in each passing day, a stillness in which you feel blessed to occupy that space in time, to be alive, truly alive, cognizant and humbled, appreciating the gift as it enraptures your conscious, a tear shed should you be so finely tuned. Tonight, after a day fraught with gnawing angst, where I’d given up hope for a day imbued with purpose, meaning, or beauty, that moment unexpectedly arrived on my doorstep, and I was moved.
Frustrated this day, merely existing in the howl of nothing, I chose to rise and explore with a recklessness, forcing myself to emerge snarling from a pit of stagnation and nebulous non. Eventually snaking down a rabbit hole I found sublimity, a sublimity that returned the grandeur of life and the living of it, a sublimity that was a song. “For Keeps” -honestly written and elegantly performed by my friend David Garza- unveiled a fragility that spoke to me ...and I wept. A vulnerable tale, the unvarnished sentiment struck a chord in the emptiness of my emotional drought, saturating a pale drabness with rivulets of scarlet majesty.
For he and his efforts I’m eminently thankful the gift of hope, for infusing blood with purpose, reminding me the gentleness of our spirits, our capacity to love and cherish should we so choose; human qualities that are in short supply as our struggles intensify, human qualities that are, however, the very air I must breathe.
Here again was that Garza boy, touching me as he’s done since the day we met. Thank God for he and those like him similarly blessed, yet transfixed. Where would we be without their particular struggle? Perish the reality.
Tonight, after a hollow day, a day without color or beauty, I was shaken to my bones by a man’s reaction to his muse, not an easy feat in this the day of confounding exigency and top water.
And then, still basking in the glow, as if receiving a kiss from a most beguiling stranger, a train’s horn mournfully beckoned in the distance and my world was born anew.
The struggle continues... and it is good.