The End

“The End is nigh” A homeless man held up a sign with this statement on it. He had a disgusting appearance, his face black with dirt and grease. He had a long, brown beard, which was littered with little fragments of garbage and crumbs. His hair was long and greasy, and in some parts matted down from the grim he slept in. His clothes were tattered and torn, just as dirty as his body was, and his toes popped out of his shoes. The flies that covered his clothes were his only companions, besides the intangible forms that lay heavily on his heart. He lived by a dumpster outside of a gritty little pizza shop in the shadow of the great city. At night he slept, and during the day he slumped against the dumpster holding his sign.
Very few people saw his sign and those that did just passed him by, shaking their heads or mocking him under their breath. He had very little recognition of the meaning of his message, other than the obvious end it signified. He could not even remember the reason he communicated his message, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that he did because that is what he wished for most of all. He cursed the people who walked before him, and denounced his god for causing him this misery.
How this man fell to this level is uncertain, even to his own mind. Perhaps it was his own greed, or maybe the corruption of the company he worked for. Regardless of the reason, this man, who was regarded as successful by his peers, fell into this spiral of despair and poverty, which continues today, even after seven long years. He had lost everything he had, but it was not his house, or his TV, or his money that he longed for most. What this grotesque creature wanted most was what he had taken for granted long ago. He wanted love. He wanted happiness. He wanted to feel the warm water of a shower over his aching body. He wanted a bed to sleep in. He wanted more than just scraps to eat. But even as he thought of this, his thoughts quickly turned from innocent grief to hungry greed. Even at this level, the modern human still contains greed and corruption in his heart. If a man this low in life can not be relieved of the darkness of the human soul, than what hope have we?
Today is just like every other day. The same people pass him, and the same customers enter the pizza shop. The same routines are followed, day in and day out. Which such freedom in their lives, he thought, why do they conform to the monotonous schedule that they do? He, who had nothing, had no choice but repeat his hell every day. He had resolved long ago that, if by some miracle, he would find a way out of this hole; he would lead a life renewed. But promises made with no hope attached to them are as hollow as the empty dumpster which he leaned on.
However, something was different about today. Instead of sitting against the cold metal box, he walked out of his familiar, and stood at the sidewalk’s edge. He held his sign high, still not sure of its meaning. As he looked around at his new surroundings, he made notice to things he could not have ever noticed from the dumpster’s shade. He noticed the clear blue sky. He saw the clouds float on down, undisturbed by the smoke he was so accustomed to seeing. He felt the sun beat down on his dirty skin, and felt it’s warm for the first time in a long time. He looked around, unsure of what he saw. He had only seen a small view of this world for such a long time, but now he saw with his eyes what he had only heard with his ears. The vivid colors of the signs and cars assaulted his eyes, and he heard the laughter of the people. But this laughter was not the same he had heard from his tormenters. This laughter was of joy and happiness. He saw the women smiling, he saw the children giggling. The buzzing of the flies, which had been left with the dumpster and grim, was now replaced with the fluttering of the wings of birds. A myriad of new smells flew to his nose, and delighted the wretched man.
All these new sights and sounds, these new feelings and smells, they reminded him of his past memories. The memories of happiness, of his time with his long lost friends and lovers, overwhelmed his senses. The ecstasy of his pleasant memories brought tears to his eyes. He looked at his sign, his beloved possession that had given him the comfort he needed during the cold nights and rainy days, and for the first time saw clearly the gospel he was preaching. He lowered his sign, and it slowly slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground. No longer was he going the play the doomsday prophet. No longer would he curse his fellow man. He looked towards the heavens, and praised his lord, giving thanks for the joyous memories he still possesses, and the chance for a new life. Hope filled his darkened and empty heart, and he no longer wished for his last day. The end was never here, nor was it ever coming. This was only a test, and a chance to see the world in a new light. The homeless man saw this clearly now, for he saw the world not with just his mind, but with his heart as well. The man stepped out of his familiar darkness, into uncertainty, and found what his heart desired most.
Isn’t about time we did the same?