Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST pt1

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST pt1:                                                       So similar it was scary at first, later, it seemed like a second chance to make it...

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST 2

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST 2:                 The dust from the first settled and the crack in the floor bed was clearly seen, it was understandable and the events ...

ODE TO THE FIRST 2

       

        The dust from the first settled and the crack in the floor bed was clearly seen, it was understandable and the events brought out new meaning. Lessons were learnt and the progression seemed favorable, blame was accepted and the dice was thrown it came to rest in the proper/best hand.  The vow was made never to wear the dirty cloths again and all seem at rest.

      

                     Then out of the blue in the most unlikely place a diamond was found. It seemed so surreal like an illusion created by the mind. A prize gleaming like a shining star standing apart in a galaxy of its own untouched by the muck where it was seen. Warm to the eyes though cold to the touch, the reason was known and it was understandable. Fantasies reigned, imagination ran haywire. The frozen lake melted, the heart skipped like a gazelle, it looks like home. 

         Efforts were put in place to understand how best to handled the diamond, though cold to the touch but the task to polish it till shone was taken with gladness, it seemed doable. Alas! emotion takes over, the dam broke and the ship could not stay afloat or head to the berth.

                   It hit with the force not so surprising but painful all the same. So many questions never asked. So many things never known, the cocoon was opened, left in the cold to shiver. It seemed impossible at first but as the hours increases the reality became clearer. Too effortless therefore it has no value or so it seem. Just like the first, easily forgotten. Though unlike the first, no obvious faults except for reckless abandon and lack of good judgment.

              Definitely more than the ordinary, not in a fancy package but a walk through the aisle of a super market shows that its being noticed, available, desirable yet still on the shelve. The cosmos seem to be involved in an abyss of conspiracy so deep.  The clock tick tock tick tock away down the hall, a companion to the resounding silence that followed.

    The first was a near miss, focused but unsure, understanding dawn too late, the zodiac sign an indicator, Cancer believed u will stay if truly wanted. It would have been perfect, like looking at a mirror image.  Naivety struck like a fist on a cheek, emotion took over, and the warning was ignored. Ego so big it was like a hunch back. Humility ran out the door, pride took over. Oh! What a path to trek. The second was a mystery, so many unknown parameters, how will the equation be solved?

       So all that remain are memories so few it could be counted on one hand. The curtain came down the drama all but forgotten, or not?  Standing in the cold on a lone street, scared of anyone coming from the horizon, who will it be? A good Samaritan or a robber?

             The chronicle for when the cloud clears and the time tells on the memory. Wrapped to be unveiled later, with an attempt to decipher the thoughts and feeling behind the words.

A page in the memoir.

ODE TO THE FIRST pt1

              

                                       So similar it was scary at first, later, it seemed like a second chance to make it right. So right at first it was unbelievable, later, it was unbelievable. So sweet at first it was all there ever was, so true it brought the desired rest.  So perfect at first it seemed like it was predestined, later, could it be divine? In retrospect it seemed foolish to thread the same path and expect a different result, but the gift came in a different package.

                    

                                          The wound wide and open, festering and painful, the timing so wrong it’s beyond reasoning. The building tumbling down when it should be getting to the completion stage, the reality so terrible it should have been anticipated but was not. History repeated itself so exact it was scary at first, later it seem predestined.

                           

                                           Looking into the mist, the morning dew drenching, the cold biting like the worst Harmattan ever experienced. Hunger far more than expected, cloud so thick it’s like the heaven is about to burst open. Dreams made new meaning, words takes up life of its own, the siren has been blowing from down the street yet the road was crossed with reckless abandon.

                             

                                          Out with the old in with the new, the favorite track placed on repeat, standing in front of the mirror looking at the swollen face, no hiding what the eyes can see, no denying what the hand can touch. Questions run through the mind like a torrential rain, and like a driver on a lonely road the scenery became a companion whether scenic or not.

                    

                                        Wandering down the lane of memory town looking into the window of houses used to be occupied or visited, wondering why caution was yet again thrown into the wind, wondering why the cinema house had to feature the movie again. Wondering why the ticket was bought even when memory prickled that the title was familiar. Wondering about the time gone by when there was a lot to do. Wondering why the latter always get worse than the former.

              

                                      The scream tearing the hall without being heard the sound echoing through the wall of the mind. The silence so loud it’s deafening. Standing at the door way looking into the dark night, the morning seem so far away all sense of timing lost. How did it come to this. How did it come to this. How did it ever come to this. Why was the rules not followed, why the fall into the pit standing on the road well trodden.  

When the bough breaks………………………

         

                             The chronicle for when the cloud clears and the time tells on the memory. Wrapped to be unveiled later, with an attempt to decipher the thoughts and feeling behind the words.

A page in the memoir.

 To be continued..................