Dust Off My Wings

I was having a rough time a year ago, a period of dry lucidity. Left my mind behind for a long walk with a goal of getting lost. The wind was blowing fiercely at that hour, and it felt like the world was exhaling all its waste onto me. Then all of a sudden, my ears captured this faint tune drifting through the breath of the breeze. All the winds ceased to howl and the world around me stood still altogether. The melody grew with every footstep, but my feet were hesitant to accelerate at the risk of compromising the divinity of the tune, and so I decided to sit down instead. Closed my eyes for however long I did, and reopened them to the street musician sitting right before me. I turned to him and smiled, and he returned a radiant gesture of acknowledgment. Without the exchange of a single word, we shared an hour or two of silence together before I left him with a poem and a "I couldn't help it" smile. The last thing I remember was his "don't look for me" nod. I didn't listen to him, though I should have because when I went to look for him again, he was already gone. 

I've been lucky enough to cross paths with these angels who seem to brush the dust off my wings so effortlessly. These wonderful people I don't and will never know. I want to be one of them. I want to be many of them. Radiating, resonating, piecing together lost souls...