Soul of a boy … Eyes of a man

I remember who I was as a child. Now I ask myself, Where did he go? Contemplation in silence has occupied the last three meditative days. I sat in the lush forest … amid whispers of wind, and wondered when I went astray. The child was wise with nature. He didn’t ask for answers, only found them while wandering landscapes. This child was not a child, only a young being marveling over the breath of nature, using his innate ability to see art not only in the typical forested settings, but also on everyday streets … where emotions of life can be witnessed on the faces of others; or how light writes a moment of time on a cityscape. See, in my mind then, I was a photographer, while friends were firemen and such boyhood dreams. I had my camera, given to me by an elder man who had answered my question of “What do I do with this?” with an all-knowing, little grin, from which came his reply of “You’ll see, boy. You will see.” Time has revealed the boy in me once again. Therefore, upon realizing that my life of dilettantism is coming into focus, I am content to settle on one, and answer the dreams of the boy no longer dormant inside: I was once a photographer in mind. Now is the time to be one in soul. My life has shifted that I may finesse the fleeting moments of light. My black-and-white purpose beckons to be fulfilled. Everything but study is put aside. Silence has become my friend once again. I will write with my lens, telling a story without my pen. The boy wanted to be an outstanding photographer. I am that boy … now reminded of a quote to live by: “Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.” And now I understand the words of the elder man. Yes, sir. I see. And one day they will see … black-and-white art from the soul of a boy, through the eyes of a man. One day.
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