A Sweet Stranger Manifested Me

it’s time!
it’s the day when I must go to my favourite
shop to purchase my favourite juice that
aids me to exist;
an old part of me that I must release but cannot,
I haven’t made a deal with God yet with
this matter as I’m still not ready,
it’s worse than smoking cigarettes as
it kills gently,
but how can I quit? there’s no way
around it…

so in between work tasks,
I go for quick puffs,
office employees also huddle in the
west garden for their smoke breaks,
sometimes I would only catch the
few regulars with the same bad habit;
ruminating, browsing through their phones,
analyzing, reflecting, hoping.

hoping for something wonderful to happen,
seems like all of them are looking for
something special or someone special,
manifesting something sweet
or someone sweet,
and they’re all unhappy when all of them
work jobs that they must have
once prayed for…

meanwhile, there I am, a building employee
that they know exists yet is not seen,
whether they feel me or not,
I can feel their agonies from afar or nearby,
I can feel their sad stories sobbing my way,
I can feel the absence of their souls,
I can feel the longings of their ambitious hearts…

once the day ends, I journey towards
my favourite shop,
yes, it’s time,
and as soon as I swoop in, the shop attendant–
a young woman from Ethiopia, illuminating spirit, says,
I don’t know what it is but I knew I would see you here
today.”
“You manifested me?” I blurt out.

her face glows red, flustered… her coy demeanour
ignites like a child… her angelic smile speaks of
truth… not a profound portrait, but a mesmerizing
landscape…

“It’s a divine thing,” I assure her, “nothing to
worry about.”

we shake hands, we exchange names,
we’re connected.

She can also feel and see.
She’s also just like me.
I’m glad we’re not like the
others in the west garden.
I’m glad we’re living.