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The street I walk (a vent, a ramble)

There’s a street, a street that looks empty if you’re just a passerby. A street that looks cracked and harrowing and dark…. if you’re just a passerby. A street that looks like it has a dead end, if all you spare it is a glance. People are always talking about that street, about how it’s a long journey for having to come right back out the same way again. I wonder how many of them have been down that street, or have even seen that there may well just be another side. They say there’s too many blocks, to many impediments down that street, that even if there was an end you’d have to turn right back around anyways because you could never pass them. I wonder if that’s a good enough reason, a reasonable reason, not to try. Because I see beauty in that street, all along the cracked pavements buds are sprouting and things are growing. Sometimes I don’t even mind stopping and waiting for a way around those roadblocks, so beautiful is the scenery that can grow… on such a long road that so few dare to take. I guess all who take the road can’t help but fear the truth of those nasty words of the naysayers. I guess all who take the road get heavy hearts as they see another block in their path. But they will never understand, those naysayers, why we keep going. We are not stupid nor ignorant. We love the journey and do not fear how it might end, something that they will never be able to do. We are not stupid. We know the perils of the road, the possibilities. But we will not be deterred by our own fear, or by anyone elses, for it is those flowers that grow in pavement cracks that make us smile and live to love and love to live. I will not turn around to wave as they pass the street without a glance, thinking it empty. A crowd would ruin the scenery anyways.