Everything I am

Still a work in progress I think. I don't paint or draw, so sometimes when I have an image in my head I just write it out.

A man sits downtrodden on the sidewalk, weary head hung between his knees. His forearms rest on his raised thighs, hands hung limply, suspended at the wrists just above his knees. Centered in front of his shoe-less feet lays a human heart miraculously still beating, a steady pace kept in time with the slow breathing of the man. Held between his worn hands a battered cardboard sign reads "Here is my heart. It is all I have to give, but it's yours for the taking".

As the man sits alone on the busy thoroughfare he is passed by many; hundreds, maybe thousands in a day.  Most don't even look to the man, his station beneath their notice. The few who do hurry on their way, assuming the man wants something from them. 

Author's Note

I find the image of a man being ignored when he has essentially offered himself to the world tragic. I think what we value today as a society has grown so far away from real value that what matters most, people, have been pushed aside.