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..................
The piper understands the tune better, kudos ma'am
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