The Old Man with His Camera

There is something about the old man with his camera parking his car above the canyon

When life wears you down like rain on rock
And you only have a bit more time to walk 
The dirt, so familiar in one sense, in another, offers only incomprehension:
How have you walked the earth so long and yet remain a stranger, singing an alien's song?

The camera in your hand, old man, gets it:
Looking up at you, it whispers,
"No, not really...
I'm still seeing for the first time
And it's all divine
In fact, the longer I move through time, I only realize
I had no eyes to understand
I took for granted the miracles of bone and blood and grass and land,
Just like you
So use me now
Use me true
We are only now both seeing for the first time"

There is something about starting a new hobby and using all your strength to lift a camera to the sky
There is something about never giving up
And about having at last the time to turn into the scenic view and stand marveling at all the granite

Now, balanced on such heights of rock and age and life
Some cruel tragedy makes you shake your head and laugh out loud
Now you can see it
And while you could never have or hold or handle any of it,
Like a wild bear or moose you cannot touch, but only stare at 
To stand there and see it all and be in awe feels so close to God
Feels so close to the second birth
So close to the renewal of the earth