Spiritual Literal Miracle

© 2025 Scott L. — All Rights Reserved

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Original work.

Original voice.

Spiritual Literal Miracle

Dwayne seemed to have something to say. And he did.

The conversation started with work. Life, he said, is all work. And he was going to work. I chimed in: “Yeah. Americans are the hardest working people.” Not sure about the Japanese or the South Koreans, but Americans work hard. You feel it.

But Dwayne — fair enough — pointed out Africa. Mining pennies. One dollar a day. Grueling hours. We both side-checked our heads.

Then he leaned in. Voice low. “They’re like demons. Popping pills. Pushing pills. Popping pills.

They’re looking for a spiritual, literal miracle.”

I felt the rhythm of the words. The darkness behind them.

Hip-hop. Back in the day. Messages for the young. Art in performance, in sound, in truth. Now? Sex. Shooting. Gang-banging. Pushing pills. Popping pills. The draw — gone.

But he recommended NAS, N-A-S. That’s what I’ll do. Read him. Picasso. Rembrandt. Anything to know, to get familiar with the fine art of creativity and innovation. I told him:

“It’s one thing to know a little. How much richer to really, actually know the truth.”

Spiritual. Literal. Miracle.

Almost literary. Almost poetic. Spiritual — unseen, internal, faith-based. Literal — tangible, real. In that friction, weight. Something divine breaking into the real world.

Pill pushers. Poppers. Demons.

Not exaggeration. Spiritual battle. Plain and simple. Some deny it — not because they want to freak out — because they don’t want to freak out. But you look around, long enough, and it hits. That’s what it is.

Even on the screen. White words glowing against black. Felt right. Darkness behind them. Not just background. The world we were talking about. Chaos. Pain.

Poppin, Pushin. And yet — in the same glow — a spiritual, literal miracle waiting to break through.

Snap out of addiction → sobriety.

Dysfunction → functional.

Fuzziness → clarity.

Dwayne had a creative side. Trucking was the job. Writing. Other artistic work. We exchanged numbers. Appreciated the conversation. I told him: “I have an online following. If you ever want to express yourself, make a statement for justice — just let me know.”

Geeky, he said. I smiled. “Well. Everybody’s geeky.”

It ended talking about justice. Plato. “We have to restore what’s lost.” That’s why he wrote The Republic. That’s why Socrates was persecuted. Put to death. Mob. Dwayne knew exactly what I meant.

Neighborhood. Architecture. Baltimore style. Quirky. Charming.

Porches. Overhanging roofs. Would think a full addition. But no — a Lego piece. A block. Stuck on top. Worked. Streets clean. Orderly. Beautiful.

Driving out. Penn North. The drug adage played out. Mass overdoses. Twice in the past year. Weeks apart. Tragically, deaths. Weight. Charm. Quirk. Shadowed by what had happened.

Spiritual Literal Miracle is what we need.