Monday

Monday
     I step out onto the rain-slicked streets and into the humid but cooler air. Traffic whizzes by like bees. People run like mice in a wheel, getting nowhere fast. In offices lost to time, there is an endless shuffling of paper. People clack keyboards and words trickle. Printers spew out reams of figures. My tired bloodshot eyes stare at the coffee mug.
     I dream of a sunrise far away across the ruins of time in some land lost to memory where a lover serenades his beloved as she stands on the balcony before the rising sun. Laughing children scatter across fields whose barley stalks sway in the breeze. Birds sing like on the first morning when the earth awoke. Life spreads across the globe with the planet blushing green. Mountains soar in blankets of snow. Valleys are etched across the hills where people live according to ancient rhythms. They live as though life were sacred; as though related to the grass and trees; all humanity a family united by divinity, and no person a stranger.
     Flowers, galaxies, starfish, and humans are linked in a web of life. Even the dancing electrons which pass through silicon circuits are part of the mind of God. The illusion of separateness is a mirage which dissipates in a spontaneous generation when spirit and matter fuse in a merging of mind and body into the cosmic wheel. I sit at my desk watching the glow of words parade across the screen until I log off.