A flat-footed dream
The grip of the vulture's talons on a bludgeoned soul
slowly loosens, as the musical refrain of the rustling blades of verdant greenery
of that bygone world, the dew- drenched deodars, and the snow-capped peaks unfurl dreams, drowning the heart- wrenching screams of the present world, so insane, singing an endless dirge of apprehension and pain.
The leaves rustle and those long forgotten notes of love throb on -- unrestrained .Once again I can breathe, amid the pristine purity of nature, so untouched, not maligned, yet. Not vitiated by any pernicious virus.
I close my eyes and see a flat-footed dream, hoodwinking me and deftly traipsing by.
But I am quicker and with one agile stride
scoop up the dream and make it mine,
happy to find myself in that delectable land of dreams, where every homeless has a home and heartbreaking penury and dearth is replaced by a resounding mirth.
A celebratory fervor follows this rebirth, and I break into dance. So what if I have two left feet! A dance is a dance.
But hush, why does a chocolate brown scorpion slowly slither towards me, menace in its gait, its tail curved like a scimitar over its back? The vulture's talons again tighten, and the scorpion frightens me out of my wits -- bit by bit, by bit.
I wait in an agony of apprehension to be stung any moment. The rosy-hued dream has morphed into a nightmare -- yet again. Oscillating between hope and despair, my sleepy eyes glimpse a bowl of apples, I stretch my hand towards it, and quickly gobble up the apples, grinning in triumph as I spit out the pips all around me, visualizing an orchard growing up on the spot, with happy, twittering birds perched on each branch, and cicadas buzzing cheerily masquerading as diligent lawnmowers. Meanwhile, the vulture watches me with a glint in its eyes.