Unexpectation

two wee lads grew up in the same village--- with their houses only a short distance away they became close friends at an early age playing the same sports, both learning how to play an instrument, stumbling through early flirtations with girls & even pondering their prospective futures--- theirs was an unparalleled bromance. upon the eve of their high school graduation, one of the young men decided that he wanted to go to school for marketing--- he wanted to go to school to study what he thought was a lucrative field so that he would sooner than later be rolling in the benjamins--- because, with mucho benjamins came mucho power and with mucho power came mucho women--- this all made sense to an 18 year old who had only one thing on his mind. the other young man was passionate he was far too passionate to take on the business world or to involve himself with anything lucrative at all--- he took it upon himself to pursue his painting with a few pit stops in other countries along the way scrapping & meeting new people meeting more new people & scrapping further. and while one idea followed a distinct plan with a definable conclusion in sight, the other path functioned without any direction whatsoever & the very absence of expectation during the whole of his travels made the way of the second young man’s life seemingly much more interesting than the first’s. over the years the two individuals lost touch as things go--- the first graduated college, began working for a big firm, got married & moved out to the west coast--- the second went the other direction, overseas, never rooting anywhere for more than a bit of time. years went by as years do, and in time the marketing man climbed the ladder--- his dwelling grew in size his brood multiplied and all seemed well in happytown. the other, whose legs continued to cross borders, but whose pockets never really jingled much, he continued, without expectation. the man with the big house & the large family & the jingling pockets had planned every step so succinctly that it seemed nothing could fail, as each individual part thrived on the greater monolith, working together from within--- but at age 40 he was killed in a plane crash with the rest of his family. the second man kept on traveling, he kept on painting & he continues to expecting nothing from this life.