All Along the Watchtower

June 7, 2013

He sat on the bus in the pre-dawn light. Fog partially covered the windows. The inside of the bus felt enclosed in a safe bubble type of way with other silent, faceless souls, the backs of their heads illuminated by the smartphones their heads were buried in.

The brief hint of a smile, or maybe sadness touched his face as he thought of the irony, people connected to the world, but isolated from others in their own bubbles. Lights flashed past the windows as the bus ambled along.

As if in a dream, he slowly turned his head and looked out the window. In awe, he watched where the approaching lights silently moved from the clear part of the window to the fogged part, they suddenly transformed, almost spewing their aura outward in a bright halo effect. The fog combined with the escaping darkness seemed to act as a visible screen to their true essence, their souls, which was otherwise obscured.

The bus came to a stop. He was still looking out the fogged part of the window as his eyes focused on what looked like, incredibly, a rider on a horse approaching in the distance. He felt locked in place and unable to move his head to see if the rider would disappear when viewed through the clear part of the window. As the rider got closer his eyes shifted, and he saw another rider on a horse behind. Two riders. The wind began to howl against the side of the bus.

All Along the Watchtower