I see myself shrinking into an oddball, a mothball
Like time is a motion that sets you adrift, motionless –
feeling your creeping redundancy, with the walls of
your avowals coming down on you. If you made your
plans for the future and found your future prick at
your balloon. You lend yourself to an aspiration, not
weighing the fact that every moment heretofore is
a loan to you. The mountains may crumble into the
gravity of earthquakes, huge sinkholes, landslides Nepalling
their way to remind you that there is futility everywhere,
even in the littlest expectation, wherever your small next step leads
you to. You can never say `I saw it coming’, like the perennials in
your garden pot. The only thing predictable is the unpredictability,
and see how you trusted your astrologer; or the optimistic
stranger on the train on your way to work telling you there are better
times ahead. Or the evangelical doomsday prophet at the mall!
How do you think all the blacks in America felt when they were Obamaed
into a promise/ prospect, and after two full terms, nothing happened!
And Barack even won a Peace Prize he didn’t deserve! Sometimes,
tepidity wins the accolades, and brave men are always accused!
But what about life that is only stealing from you?! Do you realise
that you died so many times in your life through the passing grief,
through the irreconcilable loss, through the debilitating illness,
that somehow you are prepared for death, even if you fear it.
How do you feel dignified when you tell your mate over a beer on
a hot summer’s noon that `we are all going to die, someday’
as if it were the briefest, but most profound secret of the Universe,
And do you feel somehow consoled by that sole piece of predictability?!!
montes-musings.blog 