Signs


Maybe it’s just a sign that I spend too much time on the bus…


I looked out the window of the bus to see the writing on the wall… again. Or, the writing on the ground, anyway. 

The sign was discarded on the side of the road, half buried in the weeds, but it was still readable from the window of the bus. “Looking for the secret weapon? It’s already inside of you.” it read, answering a question that I hadn’t asked. Who had created such a sign? For what purpose? And why had they discarded it beside the road? 

Had I been looking for a secret weapon? I haven’t particularly been aware of such a need lately, but perhaps this is being planted for some later payoff. I have to appreciate how clear life is being with the signs lately: it’s hard to get much clearer than black text on a white background. The tricky part, of course, is figuring out what context they fit into. All I know for sure is that the clock is ticking and the secret weapon is inside me. 

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 15, 2017.

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