Who is This Man

The night was cool and rich with anticipation. Even the crickets and fire flies seemed to be anxiously awaiting the unknown. It seemed as though the air was thick and tangible. A sense of change was closing in like a thick veil. The mild temperature of the early evening had now been transformed as the night drew on. A cool blanket of dew had begun to settle, lovingly embraced by the tall blades of grass reaching out to touch the night sky.

You could see him from a distance approaching. Moving slowly, his stride calm and sure. He had the makings of a short beard. His eyes were an earthy brown and his dark black hair was cloaked by the endless night. He seemed at home in the dark stillness. His clothes were worn and tattered and spoke of his journey and all its tragedies. For all this he wore a calm smile on his face. His features were strong and he carried himself like one who had authority and strength.

He sauntered past me with little more then a passing glance. He seemed focused. But in that one glance he told an endless tale. His eyes spoke of a life unfulfilled. I saw the scars of a thousand attempts failed. Those deep brown eyes cried out for hope, for a chance, for a purpose. They were not quiet eyes. His eyes revealed an uncontained passion fueled by the belief that something more existed. Who was this man?

As he continued passed me I stopped. Unable to control my curiosity any long I turned to him and called out, "Hey!" I was nervous. I could feel the beads of sweat beginning to draw to the surface of my brows. My heart began to race as he slowly turned to me. His silhouette now revealed under the soft glow of a single street light. He seemed more intimidating in the light. He took one step towards me and stood in silence. Was he going to respond?

I could feel the question rising within me. I fought hard to contain it but it was useless. I blurted out, "Who are you?" I watched his face, now longing for a response. I could see the corners of his mouth begin to rise. He was smiling. There was something different about his smile. It wasn't your usual cordial, polite smile. This smile was genuine. Something you might see from a child. One who has not seen his mother all day and is finally united with her. I was taken back by it. Who was this guy? I could see his chest rise and he slowly let out a long sigh. His breath made clear in the cool night. I could see the shimmer of a tear as it slid down his cheek.

He spoke softly. His voice gentle and controlled when he said, "I am Destiny."

Destiny is not something we fight for or against. It is simply there waiting for us to take notice and call out to it. Don't let yours pass you by!