Have you seen it?
I asked the usher after the show.
Have you heard it?
I asked the disc jockey on air.
Have you tasted it?
I asked the chef in the local bistro.
Have you smelled it?
I asked the florist preparing a bouquet.
Have you touched it?
I paused on the sidewalk
Amidst the people walking,
Staring at their fast paces
At all the unwilled non-intentions…
Finally asking myself.
Have I felt it?
And I have.
Because I make it.
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” ~ Neale Donald Walsch
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
~ Shel Silverstein