On the street corner, a man is doing his most important work, holding a white sign that reads "Jesus" in red letters in one hand and a Bible in the other. Dallas is his battlefield, as Kanye West's catchy song, Flashing Lights plays in the background, a sax player mimics the tune. The man is elderly and rambles to himself. I noticed from afar that his mouth moved as people walked by, but he spoke to no one.

I am curious. I want for the elderly man's story like someone starving for food or love. The exchange could be unique, enthralling, maybe even ethereal, as he has something that these bystanders do not. I wish to know what it is. It could be something forgotten or something as ancient as the pyramids. What would make a man stand at the corner of a busy intersection throwing the character of God at people?

As I approached, he shooed me away, just as my mother did when my sisters and I spoke too loudly in church. The sacred moment is not to be disturbed.

I am forced to watch from a distance remembering that my wants, needs, and desires are not more important than this man's purpose.