A bird that spent half his life time in big trials and bigger errors sat watching the comers and goers. Not one turned to look at him as everybody that come has something running in their mind and everybody that goes was carrying some burden in their heart. There are few who were fresh and anew but lacking something; lacking aura of youngness. When all the old, sick and adult comers and goers were carrying luggage of life these young once carried the most sick luggage in their hands. It was a technology chaos that kept gossiping about others, trolling the knowns and unknowns, answering the skeptical question of what everybody else in the world is doing.
The bird that was watching all these were no different. Even he carried bigger luggage of sins (that is what all others named it). This planet saw many comers and goers, suffered rumors and gossips, trauma and tranquilizers but the intensity was lesser than that of now as any epidemic was slower with the non-existence of the technology. Now the saga is different. There were more facilities to live long but the epidemic is higher; man made. The planet as turned to a different place where everything is destructed by the hands that pretends to reconstruct for the cause of some printed papers hidden and some digital numbers in the light emitting screens.
The florescent screens have devastated the effulgent light of the life. We are now in the mid sea, trapped and betrayed. Water! Water! everywhere not a drop to drink. Life has become a daily exhibition just not to the exhibitors but also to the fellow exhibit. How foreseen somebody to say life is a stage for drama and we are all actors. Now, everything has become a melodrama. Thought the bird: life was slow and steady once upon a time when only older people thought the world is fast growing and adults longed for the life of the present young ones. Now, the bird thought, methinks adults started thinking just a decade back slowness in life style was good that the fastest journey towards the emptiness of the present young ones. Everything was pole shifted.
When trapped in this thinking the bird saw a little one holding one of the comer and walking past him like a breeze holding the hands of the tempest; as and when they stroll the breeze will become a storm. But for now the breeze doesn’t know the hand that she holds is all full of life’s experience. She strolled slowly as if the earth is not rotating. Her soft legs are veiled with chemical wardrobe preventing her to step on the bosom of Mother Earth; how sinful. When everything was taken from the Mother Earth, though she bears the throbs of daggers that was put inside her breast still little amount of joy was not allowed for her. May be that is why she has heart attacks sometime.
Somebody said a mother bears highest decibels of pain during her labor. O! You wise, do not you know she suffers more decibels if she has not visited the labor at least once in her life span. Becoming a father or a mother is not enlightenment, O! My comers and goers, it is a cycle of life. Praise not just your mother but the motherhood; praise not just your father but the fatherhood. Everybody that feeds the empty stomach is a mother; mother is gender motherhood is a state. When priests are believed to have godliness we started to believe priests as gods.
And he prayed: O! The force that runs the universe, may you send some waves that is not blue or red but green, may you change this minuscule planet and tiny living beings. May this earth become a better place for all that evolved and evolves and for all creation that are left to exist! O! Life, create no more sinful birds but create more forgiving hearts, create not more humans but humanitarians. O! Dear humans create more tranquil life than more tranquilizers, create more cures than victims. O! Nations, create more warriors but not wars.
When everything continued, the comers and goers still unnoticed, the bird flew when his stomach crunched for food!
The bird that was watching all these were no different. Even he carried bigger luggage of sins (that is what all others named it). This planet saw many comers and goers, suffered rumors and gossips, trauma and tranquilizers but the intensity was lesser than that of now as any epidemic was slower with the non-existence of the technology. Now the saga is different. There were more facilities to live long but the epidemic is higher; man made. The planet as turned to a different place where everything is destructed by the hands that pretends to reconstruct for the cause of some printed papers hidden and some digital numbers in the light emitting screens.
The florescent screens have devastated the effulgent light of the life. We are now in the mid sea, trapped and betrayed. Water! Water! everywhere not a drop to drink. Life has become a daily exhibition just not to the exhibitors but also to the fellow exhibit. How foreseen somebody to say life is a stage for drama and we are all actors. Now, everything has become a melodrama. Thought the bird: life was slow and steady once upon a time when only older people thought the world is fast growing and adults longed for the life of the present young ones. Now, the bird thought, methinks adults started thinking just a decade back slowness in life style was good that the fastest journey towards the emptiness of the present young ones. Everything was pole shifted.
When trapped in this thinking the bird saw a little one holding one of the comer and walking past him like a breeze holding the hands of the tempest; as and when they stroll the breeze will become a storm. But for now the breeze doesn’t know the hand that she holds is all full of life’s experience. She strolled slowly as if the earth is not rotating. Her soft legs are veiled with chemical wardrobe preventing her to step on the bosom of Mother Earth; how sinful. When everything was taken from the Mother Earth, though she bears the throbs of daggers that was put inside her breast still little amount of joy was not allowed for her. May be that is why she has heart attacks sometime.
Somebody said a mother bears highest decibels of pain during her labor. O! You wise, do not you know she suffers more decibels if she has not visited the labor at least once in her life span. Becoming a father or a mother is not enlightenment, O! My comers and goers, it is a cycle of life. Praise not just your mother but the motherhood; praise not just your father but the fatherhood. Everybody that feeds the empty stomach is a mother; mother is gender motherhood is a state. When priests are believed to have godliness we started to believe priests as gods.
And he prayed: O! The force that runs the universe, may you send some waves that is not blue or red but green, may you change this minuscule planet and tiny living beings. May this earth become a better place for all that evolved and evolves and for all creation that are left to exist! O! Life, create no more sinful birds but create more forgiving hearts, create not more humans but humanitarians. O! Dear humans create more tranquil life than more tranquilizers, create more cures than victims. O! Nations, create more warriors but not wars.
When everything continued, the comers and goers still unnoticed, the bird flew when his stomach crunched for food!
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