A Minute Epiphany

One day I was merely walking, walking back to my home on the hill.

It was after all the bells had rung and all instruction had stopped,

After all the pupils of said tuition had gone to their respective vehicles and rolled away, honking and rumbling all the while,

And on that day I was walking, walking back to my home on the hill.

On happenstance I would meet with a companion of mine, and we would talk of music as we walked.

We talked of voice and melody, after which we agreed wholeheartedly that one in particular group was outstanding,

After which we parted ways, and I was left alone.

And I continued walking, walking back to my home on the hill.

For a long while I travelled, crossing the stone pathways of the city in silence.

Walking the empty sidewalks, watching the trees sway this way and that,

Watching and noticing the smallest detail in the pavement in front of me, I continued my journey to the place where I dwelled while the sun was out.

Walking, back to my home on the hill.

Eventually I stopped at a corner and met with a stranger.

At first I said nothing and we merely waited for a safe time to cross the thunderous path ahead of us,

But I happen to notice that he listened to the very group my friend and I had been speaking of not ten moments before, and so I asked if this was the case, and he replied yes and complemented my taste.

Once the stream of automobiles had seemed to come to a rest, we crossed the path and parted ways on the other side.

And I continued walking, and pondering the strangers and my earlier words.

Perhaps people were more alike than they had seemed.

After all, people who agree on the subject of music are apt to agree on many other things besides, however, I doubted I would ever speak to that individual again.

And I continued on my way to my home on the hill, equipped with understanding the stranger had unknowingly taught me.