He was there…and I am here…just a meter away.
He was there…and I am here…just a meter away still. But, I just felt the presence of a father so alone, so weakened by days and weeks and months of longing for his loved ones. I felt the love of a friend from this stranger I just know. He confided me the things that is happening in the center as if I am that trustworthy to keep his little secrets. With these, I realized we are the same. He is still a man and not some mischievous monster ready to devour the flesh of mine which I adore as so pure and precious than theirs. How proud I am as I enter the center. But, how ashamed I am as I bid them farewell for they seem to be more human. For they pose true signs of hope in the Lord in which mine a hiprocrisy of stage plays.
Simply as our time to depart comes to a close, he gave me his little flower made of drinking straw. At no cost he gave me this little treasure in where he live up his life now. I in turn took it and appreciated it feeling ashamed for not doing my part of bringing something for him. I apologized for not bringing something but then he expressed himself consoling me: “What is important my son is your presence and your visit.”
He was there…and I am here…just a meter away still…but I can feel my heart beating for the heart of this saint. This saint of conversion.