Yesterday I was in my car stopped at a particularly long red light and my mind began to wander while I waited. Really wander. You know, in that place where you sort of forgot you are in a car driving and then come to, just as it turns green. This place might actually be a creative, short-term vacation technique but I do suspect most would just call it bad driving.  

At any rate, just as a Yusuf Islam-Cat Stevens CD was lulling me away with musical poetry...

Everybody's thinking about the rain
Everybody's thinking about the rain
Wonder if the sun is gonna come again, things are looking bad
Everybody in the world, in the world's looking so sad
 
...I looked over and saw a young man sitting on the ground.  He was holding a cardboard sign asking those of us in cars for money.  The sign was for us to see, but it seemed he had stopped looking a long time ago.  He was so pensive in this long stare, out into someplace very far away.  Further away it seemed than any one place my benign wanderings had just taken me. He was slowly taking puffs on the stub of a cigarette while methodically blowing the smoke back out with exact timing in short, strong bursts.  Over and over and over.  He was right there but clearly very far away. 

In this world of darkness evil rules by night
But somewhere in the shadows someone seeking light
No one loves his neighbor here, nobody has the time
No one cares for anyone else in a world where the sun don't shine

In my car I have cash for parking meters but also for moments like this, so I took out some money and lowered my window.  "Excuse me, here you go," I said loudly as the distance between us may have been a few feet but somehow now seemed galactic.  He gently took the bills and mumbled something that merely sounded gentle to me.  We both attempted to smile but the entire moment was wrought with being strangers. 

As he walked away the light turned green and I glanced over one more time.  I slowly lifted my foot off the brake and onto the gas.  The person behind me honked.  They were annoyed and was fascinated by that privileged reaction.

It was then I read his sign more clearly, "Please help me.  I need money. The airplanes are coming to get me." 

Oh.  Oh, well.  Oh, my.  Oh.  So many thoughts, reasons and possible translations went through my head.  None of them mattered. 

Only the moment where all things wander, people pause and poets understand.

Shamsia
Shamsia

 
(Yusuf Islam - World O' Darkness)