Where the field is green, the rooster wakes. Where it’s brown, it mocks. So says me but the rooster only crows. That’s it, a word could bear three meanings, depending on the size of the viewer’s pocket. Geckos rejoice beans have beetles; cooks complain beetles are in beans. And that is what cannot merge religions even if it merged communities. Bodies smell paradise, minds smell filth, yet both share the same teeth, glaring. Yes, beautiful roads but a minefield, luring but benothing, everyday is… everybody is.
Angels can be humans; humans cannot be angels. Humans have been angels to me but eventually proved to be humans, jonesing for worship. Angels were humans to me but couldn’t cease to be angels; humble where they should be proud. My sojourn… through the acrimony of those we call blood, onsets of those we call family, antipathy of those we call brothers and persecution of that we call life, most times I wake and weep into my reservoir; neighbours who fetch think it’s water, thus envious it’s always running. Pitiful.
People who lived centuries past weren’t deprived of their oil and torches, I’m deprived of switches and bulbs. When the world takes a path I’m wired to illuminate, I’m somewhere down in a dark ravine, clutching at falling stones. Sometimes I wonder if our locations come with reasons or we just fall where we’re born by chance and peradventure destiny isn’t overall. I drive with my wishes, fly with my glares. I build in my dreams, love in my thoughts. It’s so nigh yet so distant, that which we fancy but cannot afford, and stars are falling, they are. Could we say it’s because they had exhausted their purpose here? Could we?
I think to be safer, I’ll let go of my imaginary Ferrari and squirm proudly in the cycle rickshaw. Not everybody will be rich in this lifetime. We try to be gleeful in our cage when escape proves impossible but… genuine happiness doesn’t last in cages. However… well, I guess iron rusts, eventually, doesn’t it? Thankfully, it does.
I am at that point where people lose it, but again, if we count our blessings and cross our losses, we discover we’re not alone. I’m not. So, I’ll try one more day, to endure the vanity yet the ostentatiousness of this world, and one more day after every other day, I’ll try. I pray I do not lose my sanity. God help us all.
– Lord eBay (and his random ruminations, 2019)