As I people watched my way around Dublin this week I
couldn’t resist wondering; who feeds their fire.
Commuting at peak times leaves little arm space to anything but
watch, read or tweet.
But no one watched.
Few were on their phones. Some read.
Yet, they all had a goal emitting from them. And I’m not talking about the commute home where your main goals are: dinner, a beer, slippers and a remote!
No, I’m chatting to you, dear fellow commuter, about the morning commute.
This mornings for example:
Chins lead the walkers, shoulders swung
proudly, leather shoes were bounced off
the pavement from the toe and every
single person was magnetised by their
goal. Palpable, so it was!
I can’t help but guess: It’s the Dublin sea, isn’t it?
Dart commuters trail along it’s silver edge daily but never look out the window. Nature always wins, especially the magnetic power of water.
Share your thoughts –
Who feeds your fire?
Is it books that you learn from or escape to?
Is it the ego and business suits and meetings and buzz words and long run-on sentences that you think will never stop?
Is it your latte waiting for you at the local indo coffee seller who knows your name and has it plaster on your waiting cup of chi?
Or is it the ethereal power of nature?
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Michelle Moloney King 
God. You got it, I mean, you totally got it.
Thank you for sharing, Jiib.
I love how you formatted this. And your thought process condensed down what I said into a finer gravy.
Beautiful poem, Jiib.
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They watch but do not see
They stare but do not gaze
The wonder that is hidden
The power underneath
Not feeling the gravitational pull of the moon that is what moves the sea
How can their immediate goal so pressing so needy so absolute leave no time for the unsuspecting moment when the sea can take your breath away.
But I have my ego too
I rush in my commute
It feeds my bruised esteem
I am really important u see
But Oh! My chin just leaves me bare
And the oxygen is so thin
….
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