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Description
I see rain, I see fear, I see everything around me. Drifting through the time, hearing the secrets, I am scared and joyous at the same time. One man approaches me and asks me "Do you like what you see?" and I look back and say "The things we see are open to interpretation" this man and I walk side by side for some time. We walk in silence along the path and he finally asks "What is it you see?" I look at him without pause "I see death and I see life, I see you and I see me, I see the scars on the path, and yet the scabs that have healed them. I see babies born and babies dead" he then asks "what are you a God?" I shake my head with a smile "No I am an observer" I breathe deeply, "I am that man you do not see, the one writing your story" the man looks quizzically, "What do you mean, writing my story?" I put a hand on his shoulder and say "it's simple man, you aren't real you only live in my head" he smiles at me "But I am real, for I live in your mind and nowhere else" It is my turn to look at him strangely and before I ask, "Anything is real as long as it is thought, the thought brings the life, the life brings the thought, you think you control me, maybe it is I that control you?" I smile and laugh loudly, "That is the enigma that is life" we both nod and just continue on down that path. I wander back to that day sometimes, and wonder if I ever really gave that man a name, or is he just a shadow of my thought, deviant of the world?

Description
I see rain, I see fear, I see everything around me. Drifting through the time, hearing the secrets, I am scared and joyous at the same time. One man approaches me and asks me "Do you like what you see?" and I look back and say "The things we see are open to interpretation" this man and I walk side by side for some time. We walk in silence along the path and he finally asks "What is it you see?" I look at him without pause "I see death and I see life, I see you and I see me, I see the scars on the path, and yet the scabs that have healed them. I see babies born and babies dead" he then asks "what are you a God?" I shake my head with a smile "No I am an observer" I breathe deeply, "I am that man you do not see, the one writing your story" the man looks quizzically, "What do you mean, writing my story?" I put a hand on his shoulder and say "it's simple man, you aren't real you only live in my head" he smiles at me "But I am real, for I live in your mind and nowhere else" It is my turn to look at him strangely and before I ask, "Anything is real as long as it is thought, the thought brings the life, the life brings the thought, you think you control me, maybe it is I that control you?" I smile and laugh loudly, "That is the enigma that is life" we both nod and just continue on down that path. I wander back to that day sometimes, and wonder if I ever really gave that man a name, or is he just a shadow of my thought, deviant of the world?