Literary WorldProse

And by a whisker, it was all over.

How I could have…. But didn’t and wasn’t.

I could have disappeared like a tinge of butter in a hot pan. But I did not.

I could have been iced, unnoted like a fish in the bowel of a fishing barge. But I was not.

I could have been carried away to an unknown destination like a fluff of cotton in a violent wind. But I was not.

I could have been turned into a worthless statue of salt by my own thoughts like the wife of Lot. But I was not.

Rescued by a Divine bell, at the very hour of death, here I stand at the feet of Spring.

Crowned with a new lease of life, by the edge of Ararat, the mountain of hope, watching a replay of my life like the six days of creation.

Wondering how I got away from the serrated dentures of an apocalyptic Leviathan.

I almost forgot that there is a seventh day, a day of rest while mulling confusingly over how things could have come to a sudden and ignominious end.

I almost forgot that a cat never falls on its back not only by nature but by toilful efforts.

I almost forgot that a fresh twig resides in a tree scorched by a wild fire.

I almost forgot that a little shower of rain can put out the legendary anger of the Sun.

I was never afraid of death,

Only the shame that would have been my pallbearers.

The void that I would have bequeathed to those left behind.

Life, who can really tell what it is?

But on a certain dingy path, you will behold everyone in their nakedness, their true nature.

Image credit : collins_obiajiaku

You will come to know that those who will hold out a cup of water to quench your lingering thirst or a slice of bread to push back your burning hunger may not be those you have hoped for and trusted.

You will come to see those you thought were Goliaths morph into statuettes fleeing from your failing call for help.

Life!

I have seen you. I know who you are.

I will move on with a heart uncluttered.

I will lend a hand to those whose legs have failed.

I will sing with the birds at dawn.

I will flutter with the butterflies when scented petals unfold their palms.

I will stretch out my hand like a child and count the blessing of every rain drop with a glee.

I will roll over in the midst of little puppies in fields layered with fresh pollens.

I will hunt down every silver lining in any cloud.

I will bend down and and savour the waters of every oasis I may find on the rest of my way.

I will admire the glow of sunset.

And hopefully quit the stage with grace and splendor when the curtains fall at the end of the last act in the last scene.

God willing!

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