The Pattern in these Cracks

Entry for October 12, 2007

waiting for you to come and pick me up today i stood tall on the raised curb. the red paint on that curb cracked long ago. my feet were too big and my toes hung over the edge. i stood staring at the wind blowing through the street. a bus came and picked up two women who sat across the road on the steps up to the parking lot. i passed those two daily before their bus ever came. you were late, stuck in traffic a mile away. i looked at the cracked paint on the road. i wonder who it is that sees the pattern in these cracks. i am a foolish man of science, fight as i may against that mind it controls my thoughts. i imagined nothing more then the temperatures that must make that paint swell and contract until it can stretch no further. my mind lost creativity until the wind picked up again and i realized that my big feet were aching from standing on that small red curb too long. again i focused on the white paint on the roadway. what ancient chinese king could tell me what it ment? the cracked paint reminded me of the oracle bones of the shang dynasty. what great men of faith could read these lines on the pavement below my feet? Reality has not changed from that time of wonder. God is God is God and how is man to interpret these cracks? A gust of wind and a sense of awe is all i took from my question. What is the language of these thing? How am I to read nature? God is God is God and I am just a man. My feet are throbing and I slipped and almost fell from the curb...why was i standing there anyway? i backed up a few feet and imagined you comming around the bend. then you were there and waiting for me to stop waiting for you. i crossed the street jumping the cracks with every step. had i an eternity i would figure out those jagged lines i would crack their code and know which bend you were comming around and where the traffic slows.