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I am empowered by the man in the white lights.
I call to him. And with patience he replies.
He need not say anything, but clear his path.
And so I walk with dignity,
for the man in the white lights has given me passage across the lives of others.
He puts pause on their busy lives,
Leaves them sitting, undecided:
will I turn or go straight, who is this man in my way?
But they cannot question the white man's lights.
Sometimes I stare at them.
Sometimes they stare at me.
We don't try to remember or forget,
But focus on each other's souls.
There is no thought, just the involuntary curiosity of the eyes.
At that one moment, I have more power than all of those people.
They don't acknowledge it, but I know.
When I have made my way across the striped path
And the man in the white lights disappears,
I return to my helpless reality.
I know I can call for his power again and again,
But I reserve the right to its most critical moments.
I approach a hill.
And the people who just bowed down to the man in the white lights
Approach the same hill.
I am tired.
They are not.
I always stare at them.
They never stare at me.
They don't care. There was never a contest. They just continue on their way.
Life laughs at me,
But I grin.
I see another man in white lights.