I am a traveller, wandering through the maze of my consciousness one day I was confronted by the most beautiful and dazzling sight that I had ever laid my eyes upon. I asked her who she was and she said “look at me and tell me what you see.” Looking closely I found out that she had lines running across her face, her aura had dazzled out the lines but still; even with those lines she looked all the more beautiful, alluring in a way numinous beyond words. Failing to discern her identity I looked upon her to reveal it to me, and then looking at me with those benign eyes she told me “I am life.”
“Life”, exclaimed I, “how could you be so beautiful so alluring its true then that you are a conjurer a magician!”
“I am whatever you may call me sorrow, pain, jealously, victory, sadness, joy, health, malicious, song, knowledge, spring, summer, love, hate, unfair, beauty, ugly, mystery… it is to your calling what you connote me with, as I am incarnate with all these elements I am them and they encompass me. They are all in me and much more they run across the withering of my physical self each one finding a way of its own; like a wild mountain brook, I am the pond when you come to me you create, as a stone does when thrown into the pond, ripples of imagination, of longing, of youth, of love, of loving and losing, of the joy of growing up, of the sorrow and loss of youth. It is you who give me the wings of imagination connoting me with prose and poetry swathing me, marshalling me with your wit in many a ways trying to make a higher meaning of me, you who blame me for all the wrongs and praise me for being good calling me magician a conjurer when all the time its you who is performing on my stage all that you see is there because you have destined it to be there for you.”
“Bewitching as though your talk maybe, fooled yet I am not, for I still see the pain, misery and suffering, through that exquisite masquerade I see the misery of old, the loss of love, the pain of failure, the suffering of decrepit, the hate of nations, the war of people, the loss of youth, the killing of innocents, the clashes of race cultures and ethics, the hate towards each other, the death of truth, the rise of revulsion of humans for humans, the deprivation of children, the massacre of purity. I see, breath, live it, all around me is misery and the ghastliness that life brings with itself; I have seen it all should I see anymore I shall cease to live.”
Says Life “like the fool you are you see the misery of the old forgetting their youth, the hate of war but the care of people to the wounded, the hate of nations but the goodwill of trade among them, the clashes of race cultures ethics but the devotion to the religion. You judged the book by skimming through the first page refusing to look beyond, here, look through my eyes maybe that’ll help you comprehend me better.”
And then I saw through the eyes of life; an old couple walking hand in hand smiling, a man holding the hand of his comatose wife for days on end waiting for her to rise from her sleep. I saw a seed carried by the wind thrown into dust fostered by rain to mature as a plant and grow into a tree nurturing fleets of birds and letting vines evolve on it, I saw a mother toiling during the day to feed her children at night, I looked into the desert in the heart of heat and dust in the oppression of the climate life was still smiling back at me in the faces of the women carrying pitchers back to their homes, a scientist content after the days work resting on his lab table beside his unfinished work, at nuns tending the atrophying leper; selflessly caring for the pariah.
I saw children playing in the sand building castles that would be washed away in the tide with their footprints but the sea and the shore remain forever, and when the child of the past visits as the youth of the present he takes away the memories for the future, I saw hate and through it desperation, frustration, madness for superiority among equals, jealously as inspiration, truth as silence, I saw lovers idling on a shore with sand and foam at their feet uncaring that their trail is washed away by the sea erased from the musing of the shores; captivated by each other they walk hand in hand look in each others eyes as they grow old through pain, misery and love, I saw a beautiful woman growing old to be a gracious grandmother narrating her grand children the adventures of her youth.
How can I blame that life is the pain of death when I see the dance of life on the grave of the dead, I saw the war of the nations and love of the people, I took part in the celebrations for the newborn and attended the funeral of the dead, I see a pregnant lady knitting for a yet to be born baby a new life.
I travelled far and wide with the eyes of life and saw people trying to accumulate the essence of life as a child tries to capture mist in a can, both failing in their endeavour to incarcerate a thing illimitable by confines.
Devolving back the eyes of Life my tortured vision of life was now enriched by the knowledge of beyond the veneer, into more simplistic revelation that Life gave me “In the heart of Life lived beauty which flows through myriad impressions of emotions.”
