AVENUE PREACHER

There is at least one in every hood.
The man,or woman on the street,
talking to themselves.
Hands that build an unseen sculpture.
Have you ever listened?
Focused attention?
Are drugs to blame,for a mind"insane?"
Or do modern day prophets exist?
Has Christ chosen the next apostles?
He spoke to me.
In front of a dilapidated crematory.
Clutched to his chest,
was an 18th century bible.
His words searched the air,for open ears.
"REPENT!"
"ARE YOU PREPARED CHILD?"
Strange...
I thought I was until that moment.
Our eyes locked,as the city slowed.
The people moved like rolling fog.
Except us...
We met in the middle of the avenue,
and he put his hand on my shoulder.
"Are you alive?"he asked.
"What defines your existence child?"
An oncoming car inched closer.
I stuttered my words,as I tried to answer.
"I...I don't..."
He knew what I was going to say.
My heart weighed heavy,when he veered his gaze
to the nearing car.
Turning back toward me,he smiled slightly,and spoke,
"When your heart gains enough courage,
to allow your tongue to answer...
It is not me you need to tell."
His hands flew forward,shoving my chest.
I fell back,and real time again began.
At the same moment,the car rolled over top of him...
Chaos swarmed around us.
His head lie on the bible.
Eyes still open,staring into mine...
That slight smile remaining on his face.