Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Agony of his Youth

The days swiftly passes by like lightening  rod exploding in  the sky, the winter breeze fades away, ushering  in the living Spring and I watch the universe at work rekindling  the  summer and he began to tell us a story about the agony of his youth and the people that walked bare footed without shoes; the thunder began to roll and he plant a seed inside  the center of my soul

He did not have much to eat and sometimes he had to roam the street hustling here and there because there was no one to care, he  had no proper place to sleep and he had to place a torn up matrass  on the ground until he can find his way home. The scorn of the earth absorb in his flesh and midnight hope raised up in his sleeves and he had to put his shoulder to work to move out of the dirt.
With cuts and bruises on his feet the agony solidifies a painful journey but destiny had his back and there were no bones about that and through it all he never sins. He bore the pressure and the pain; for he knew that life will never be the same. He composes his own rhythm one that he could sing and dance to.

 And when daylight brakes on the shore he spends his time meditating on the shore and courage kept asking for more. He journey to the desert  to strengthen  his hand and he finally  found  peace in the distant land, his countenance changed and his life changed with just one visit that is how the story fits. The master of peace is wrapped up in the desert heat and  you have to l search for it.
He walks around in a full-fledge suit swinging his head from side to side as he recalls the memory of his youth; the front door is always closed and he had to walk through  the back door; nothing in his past life was a delight because he had to make lots of sacrifice before he could cross  over the finishing line.

I couldn’t understand how he feels until he explain the darker sides of his dreams looks are very deceiving; he was neatly dressed clean shave cut and every day he takes a bath before the day starts and he had the most expensive Arabian perfume and he was well groomed but deep down inside his heart was tearing apart and riches and luxuries could not replace that awful memory.

There are two sides to him and if you meet him you could not tell that he had sorrow, he is not the reserved  type or the one that would create a brawl before  daybreak  he was so discipline and confined and all I wanted was  a piece of his mind; I love the way he flex and the way he handles  serious problems when he is out of breath and when he find time to have a meal it is just amazing how he handles his diner guest; it is in these circumstance that I often flex.
 His partner is amazing and she has a dandy appetite, that he feeds on day and night they were both made for each other through love and sacrifice; you can all on them any time of and your dreams will never fades away.
          The agony of his youth is a living proof.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2025

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