On the Spot

The hooting bird in the tree is singing a bountiful tune; the heat is spinning around in the air with a message that is clear, and the building straining under its weight is waiting to hear the final debate. Walls cascading upon walls lay flat on the sun burnt ground and dust walk about in the street, with boots like soldier man facing an eternal defeat. Tearful eyes peeps through shadowy glass window whose pane is stained with blood trying to put the puzzle together as they watched the terrified crowds running for shelter. The mountain is crawling on its back and the rivers are dancing in new socks. Water gushes down the merciless stream in rubber boots sweeping away everything in its path. It forces the village women that beat their laundry on stones to parachute to higher grounds. And somewhere beyond the distance the wailing voices of worshipers resonates from the temple. Sacred sounds penetrating the heaven causing concrete gods to tumble from the sky at the wink of the sinner man’s cry. The giant structure blocked the street heaping up piles of concrete burying dogs underneath and crushing man’s passion on the concrete. I can hear the hooting once more, and the wood pecker knocking at the door, leaves are scattered all around and it seems as if winter is visiting summer in the town with pencils, pens and hats trembling in one hand. It took a while to figure out what was going on, and I kept staring at the unforgiving sky. I tried to reason with it but there was no compassion inside. I listened to the ridicule and smile. A sudden brush of wind brushes over my face and warm my spirit with grace. I could hear a familiar voice around but that person could not be found. It’s one of those days when the sun and the moon caress in the horizon and the stars are in harmony.And all of a sudden reality embraces you and look you straight in the eyes, and say, you have survived!