I'm on a sleeper bus rumbling across India. Six berths of four bunks. A six hour trip that ends up pushing beyond eleven.
It's been a long night.
There's a man snoring before I even get to my upper bunk of the sleeping compartment. Some eight hours later he continues. A calliope of unimaginable noise issuing as if a bagpipe or a bellows has been combined with the snuffling sounds of wild beasts and complex wheezes resembling the cries of dying avians.
Exhausted from a lack of sleep. Fighting fatigue I nudge aside the curtain with my toe. Verdant beauty streams by my sliver of window interspersed with signs of humanity which only seem as bright when those who mark it out themselves are visibly evident for the moments I see them, there by the thoroughfare.
The starkness of the clearings contrasting with the blues and reds of their garb. The grays of the concrete with the gold of their jewelry. Stop motion frames of briefly glimpsed images resonate in my mind.
The hazy multihued globe that will shortly resolve itself into the ball of fire which fuels our planet is hiding in the mist shrouded in pinks, blues, and oranges.A fresh new sky is slowly brightening with the opportunities that are today.I can't help but feel in this moment of reflection and introspection (something which I must confess, I rarely indulge in when I'm at home to this degree) an awareness that destiny yet lingers. Like the brightening sun it waits for me to turn -- to let down the defenses and guards that the daily life of survival so easily becomes -- it awaits my turning to face the vivid brightness.
Looking out my portal to the world, I wonder, What limits my vista and my reach?
I remember yet again. I am a man of destiny. And in it's fulness it yet still awaits me.
_______________
Filed by David, Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Hmm - i didn't see the poetic side of David till now. I the richness of language and texture in this post is somewhat mystical and classy - I like it very much.
ReplyDelete