poor

The man woke up from his make shift bed of cardboxes and newspapers. Waking each morning didn't make a difference. There was nothing in the world he looked forward to. Disheveled, with the smell of heavy body odour mixed with dirt and garbage, people shot him looks as he walked the sidewalks of town.

Today was another day, he would go around collecting garbage cans and any recyclables he could find. That would mean digging up from bins along the way, and having the risk of being chased away by some shop keepers. They were not nice people and sometimes shooed him as if he was a dirty dog. Such was life for him. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for. He was just living day by day, hoping that he'll make it through the next.

As he walked through the streets that morning, he passed by this building. This ashen gray building. Old and dusty. He noticed something different that morning. He usually passed it without much care, but today, something was really different. He stopped, he looked and finally it hit him. There was music. Soft at first, but more and more voices couuld be heard in unison. The voices were not only melodious, they were joyous!

"What could make so many people happy?" he muttered under his breath.

Was it a wedding? A party? What was so familiar about the singing, and yet he couldn't put a finger to it?

Curiousity got the better out of him and he approached the building. The voices were clearer now, but he still couldn't quite decipher the music and the words.

Should he open the door? Should he peek inside? What if someone were to come out and chase him with a broom. It's happened before. But to leave now, would leave him in curiousity for the rest of the day.

It wouldn't hurt. What's another broom to the head or another shrill scream?

He pushed the door, made it slightly ajar, just enough to peek through, and through that tiny little hole, he saw people singing. They were all dressed up. Happy singing songs. Something inside of him felt different. It was not the singing or the dressing that stirred something inside him. It was their faces. The serenity of it all spoke so much about a tired week, and finally getting relief. They were calm, happy eventhough some had tears down their cheeks.

He had been here before. Somehow. He couldn't remember. He wanted so badly to join them, but at the same time, he was so conscious about his appearance. He was dirty. Smelly. Which clean person in a suit would want to associate with him?
Never had he felt so ashamed. He knew then, he had lost himself all this years.

The question was, is it too late now ?