Small talk with a life's salesman

I am not dead yet, I am alive, more alive than you can ever be. I mean this art of living, I know it all too well. Cross by me someday and I would tell you how beautiful it is, everything, so beautiful! The walks to a little cafe sometimes with your favorite cup of coffee. I ask them to put extra chocolate to melt my heart. The late-night walks, the breath of freedom. This yearning to feel more, touch more, experience more. Then there is this silence of slogging for long hours and you love it. Every bit of it. This connection of yourself with everything around you is just ecstatic. 

This healing hits you like waves. You reach the peak and then there is no coming back. It is saturated, you are forever insane, healed. There is not an inch within me that I would like to hide anymore. I have always been brash like that. 

Do you feel me, this living for the whole goddamn world? 

But, what is me, what of me, how of me? 

I declare it to the streets, to the mindless traffic, to the city lights.

There isn't a dark corner left. 

It is lit, too lit to find a shadow. 

You would wonder, then what next? 

What great new civilization after these washed-away ruins? 

Why, dream. 

Why, love. 

Why, know.