Cross
I trudged through the bleak, dreary
city on a cloudy day, and passed by many people on my way. I always find it
interesting to watch others, I always have. I’ve always been interested in
watching other people, particularly how they behave, and how they talk.
Some people act like life is
horrible, and they would rather be dead. Some people act as though life is
great, and they wouldn’t trade it for anything. But most people just go through
the day, go through the motions, and go through life without batting an eye or
giving it a thought.
However, everybody has a cross to
bear. Some people’s crosses are made of different materials, and some have
slightly bigger or smaller crosses, and sometimes people even add weight to
their crosses. But everybody still carries their cross.
I always wondered how my cross
looked. Was it big or small? Was it made of heavy or light material? I never
got the answer to that. Nobody could tell me, and I couldn’t see it. And that
was slowly killing me.
I passed by one person, his cross
was massive. It was the largest cross I had ever seen, and it kept on getting
more weight on it. But he never stumbled, he never fell due to it. He never let
it drag him down.
In fact, it almost seemed like the
heavier his cross became, the lighter the bounce in his step was, the brighter
the glint in his eye was. He was always laughing, always smiling, every time I
saw him.
I saw him a lot, and I always paid
special attention to him. Why would he always be so happy when he had such a
heavy weight? Why would he never let it pull him down? That word always plagued
me, always frustrated me.
Why?
Follow me,
Pick up your cross.
Follow me,
Forget your loss.
Follow me,
Let this be true.
Follow me,
I remember you.
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