Fleeting moments

Most of our lives goes away without being noticed. We live it. But we don't remember it.

The other day you took a bus to get to work. You remember sitting back and thinking about things as the roads melted away into past tense, reduced to a word, a phrase, a grammatically incorrect sentence. The trees and the vehicles merged into nothingness as your thoughts raced away thinking great, good, evil, ordinary things. The signal gave into your irresistible forgetfulness. We crossed paths, remember? No, you don't. Well, I don't either. I am certain I saw you. You were sitting crouched inside the bus, clutching onto the seat in front of you and your memories as I failed to become a part of it. You saw me, too. But did not give in to that tiny urge rising from the tip of your little finger, flowing through your veins and into your mind to make me more than a fleeting glimpse. You could have taken a second glance. But why would you? It wasn't anything significant that you had to be a part of. It was just another lost soul floating across the world, like your own. The lost don't know each other. They do not recognize others like them. They are lost, lost in their own inebriated selves, and in the infinite emptiness of the universe, the non-existent segments of their lives. Where were you when I needed you? You were a stranger, in a strange land, cooking up strange recipes to fulfill those little wants of your consciousness. I was waiting for you to give me your hand, that eternally elusive hand, which would embrace me, wash away my sins, my sadness and make me pure, divine.

I am not sad that you did not save me. I don't regret not being a part of your life. I am grateful for that infinitesimal spark of neuron that took birth with my presence, lived it's course with existential bliss and dissolved into the fire that would bring to life and keep alive other sparks of enlightenment. You too are trivial in my world.
Until now.

This is my ode to you, to all of you who make up those fleeting moments which add meaning to this otherwise absurd life.

Life is beautiful, thanks to you.