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The Branches
Thorns and prickles dangle at the root of the tree and the temperature is shouting at a hundred and seventy degree; destiny is baking a global cake and you have to get your slice before they close the big gate.
He has been privileged from his youth and the secret is tucked in several layers in the sole of his shoes, big foot is trotting along and the people are singing a woeful song; the stage is well set and the people are singing to the epiphany of death, blooded white horse roam the streets of London and an incident had transpired in a distant land; what an awful song?
I was hoping to hear a different tune but I sat there from morning till noon listening to an argument of a different kind but it was not strong enough to appease my mind. Each time I listened to it, it disturbed my passionate spirit, and the things of the past come back to haunt him in the dark; what do you make of it? It sounds like a real counterfeits while the intruders are peeping behind the blind seeking a way to escape from irony of the divine
Argument override argument and I cannot make sense of them, they don’t fit the purpose, and I wonder what the goal is when the heavens get out of control. The constitution has some flaws because it leaves mighty men wondering in the dark, fifteen century code has no value and it will make you feel sorry. Do not read too much in it or it will through you off the cliff.
I sit in the crammed space viewing mankind’s race, everyone is warming up to join the big pack, the races are short and you have to meet with the referee after dark, the bribe is set but he has lost the bet. The timing was wrong and he could not find a suitable song, the atmosphere has changed, and people began to leave the town in droves nothing was going on.
I watched the grapes flirting on the vine, and the peasants in the field filling the basket with succulent fruits; the winery is full and water is springing out of the ground; observe the peasant how they harvest the fruits of assorted color before they were given their marching orders.
The days are coming back when my vineyard will flourish again and I will find new friends, succulent mangoes, cherries and passion fruits will flourish and the dryness will absorb in the clouds, and nature will roar like thunder all over the town; the juice from the poinsettia is dripping from the limb and you will be singing a brand new hymn.
They watched with tension shaking in their legs as the vigilantes invaded the street, with hatchet, pickaxes and machete they looked very angry. They are going to settle the dust and the people are making a big the fuss; see them crawling on their knees and you must hurry and get to the border before they sign the decree.
The mission is still on and it’s time to compose and sing your own song. The branches are shaking and the global cake is baking.
Copyright ©
Christine Phillips
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