The Penguins

I can still hear that voice speaking as if someone was dreaming, it is the voice that you hear when someone is trapped between mid-night and daylight and the sun comes charging at you and the wind kept running after you; and the only way out is to embrace the sun and the wind and squeeze the rain until it drains and the boats anchors in the sea. I look beyond the distance and I see you looking outside your window holding a glass lamp with a shade covering the steady flame. From the look on your face, it’s as if you were getting ready to go in search of something or you were waiting for a signal to tell you when the journey will begin and just as I thought of it a bird flew through the window and sits on top of the sofa. Just when you need the companies the most Nature delivers a miracle at your door. I can still hear your voice speaking above the morning, gathering oracles of hope for the evening and far beyond the sea and penguin marching on the shores as if they were getting ready for a grand Jubilee. But on the and other side of the beach the cranes were holding court while the seagulls gather in the midst to listen to the boisterous arguments. The dispute wasn’t over money; it was over a single pair of shoes and who gets to sit in dress circle inside the prestigious theater. The arguments went on for an hour ripping up the glass ceiling, tearing down drapes and curtain, knocking out window panes as opinion bleeds on the floor in vain. I watched beaks hitting on beaks and spur rubbing against spur and the salt smell of the sea perfumed the atmosphere washing big waves on the shore and breaking up the contentious gathering but I walked away smiling. I travelled from that place and found myself in another place; the wet market and the department store has something in common and people were crowded on the floor. I went and look at them and they welcome me with a grin. I walked around and went down town to get something at the wet market. Screams and shout elevate over my head and from the look of things someone was shot dead everyone was scuffling around while others were trying to complete their shopping. They throw a sheet on the dead man’s face while other kept walking all over the place; some people glance at him but other carryon with the “dance; they lay a bunch of flowers upon his head while others look on curiously". Was it for real or was it a dream, the dream kept speaking to the dream as the morning burst out with a fright in board day light. I lit a candle and walked away and found myself on a plane and a crowd was waiting for me on the other side when I stepped off the plane there were screams and shouts and flags waving all about, was it a dream or was it for real? This is something for you to think about.