There's No Way of Knowing

In the early morning hours, I sit and watch cars move in the far distance. Amidst the ink black vista their headlights glitter like stars. 

I sit quietly and envision the life transpiring inside the dash light illuminated cars. Is music playing softly, if so, what kind. Are they working hard to make the words of the inspirational teacher speaking through their speakers, a mantra that is their own. Is it silent. With only the sound of air pushing through vents and tires rolling across pavement, what are the thoughts that fill their minds.

Are they wondering about what’s become of their life, or of what they’ll make for dinner. Do they feel good about themselves. Are they happy. Or do they loathe the sight of themselves. Are they defeated. Do they wince softly upon hearing the voice in their head.

Do they return to an empty home. If so, do they turn the television on just to hear a voice, other than that of their own. Or do they enter a home filled with chaos and duties that will keep them busy until darkness, once again, returns to the sky. 

Is someone waiting for them, with open arms and a broad smile. Are they blessed with a soft voice that asks about their day. Or like me, do they have a dog that sits in the same position waiting for them to open the door.

I have to wonder if they are in a hurry. As I watch the headlights moving steadily across the horizon, its evident some are. More importantly, are they pleased with where they’re heading, or does their stomach turn with unhappiness.

Is their heart filled with love. If so, what kind. Love soon to be experienced, or the seldom found love that stands the test of time. Were they drawn together by a powerful force, or happenstance. Or did they just discover nothing was as it seemed. They feel foolish, hurt and used. 

Have they given up, or are they filled with hope. Are they content.

Within every moment, within every scene that flickers before one’s eyes - there’s a story.

Sane