The time I made it an experiment to look at strangers in the park with eyes of compassion and got a poem of out it.

This was inspired by a moment spent in the park as I observed people going about their exercise routines. As I was shaking my legs moving feeling the tiled walkway skirted by wild green foliage move under me, I thought about the people that must have adored these strangers that were walking and jogging.

While I studied these foreign yet familiar faces from a distance (like a polite people-watcher) I tried to look at them the way someone who knew them would do without looking like a complete madwoman.

Each one no matter her/his age was a great source of joy to somebody. Whether this was/is reciprocated or even resulted in a relationship, it doesn't matter. There was a general caring I felt coming from my being directed to them.

Some just wanted to be acknowledged for a moment they were there sweating, huffing and puffing. For this, a special brand of townies from the same town kinda quick nod of recognition can be given quickly.

While I disliked hearing the sounds of strange people panting too close for comfort, I set that aside to notice something in these faces: They were sweethearts of some other sweethearts, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, grandchildren and grannies all blur into an assortment of random motions. As we piled and dispersed in the location designated for sweating in public, we were utterly undistinguished in our human stories.

Different in shapes and forms, colors and textures housed in impermanent vessels, we sipped a taste of immortality resting in the pocket of our fleeting dance.

This is then the poem that resulted in that reflective walking session for your reading pleasure:

Poem title: Pulse

Image credit: Kaique Rocha / Pexels