I begin to cry as I watch the old decayed building is torn down,
And ignore the amused stares.
But then a soft hand lands on my shoulder, jerking me back to reality.
I spin around on my heel, my tears flipping from my face as my back turns to the dead building,
And my innocent eyes rest upon an old face.
He smiles at me, wrinkles from years of life creased onto his once-gorgeous face.
His wrinkled hand provides an odd comfort to my shaking shoulder.
"Why are you crying, dear?" He rasps so beautifully, smiling down at my crying face.
I respond by taking a lung-full of fresh air, and blinking back tears.
"Because." I speak clearly, staring into his old brown eyes. "The building is so old, and so beautiful. It has lived so long, and stood so tall. And now its to die because of its old, ugly appearance? Why should life end like that? Life is beautiful, and that old building has lived to see that. Why? Why should it die?"
As I finished, the man smiled so softly, that it seemed he was my grandfather, and I was his grandchild as he told me a magical story.
"My dear child." He murmurs kindly. "That is true, but life is just liked that. We live, we die. It is gods word. And that building has lived through for so long, and has stood so tall so beautifully, yes. But all things die, all things fall and crumble. The building had its time, and in its place, a new one will be born. A new life to witness gods miracles."
I ponder those wise words as he walks away, and wish that he wouldn't leave. I turn back, and watch with now-dry eyes as the building turned to ruins.
I pause, and a smile lights my face.
Because another life will be born on that old dirt,
One that will witness god miracles.
