Far from The Shadow now: A Survival’s Whine

We have come this far, left disappointments by the dirty alleys, giving out our mended hearts to free a soul, patched our scars with daily hope, bandaged our tired feet which saw no shoes, fought in a war which shattered our pride, drew breath from the stench of numerous corpse, lived on the falcons watch and cried like hungry abandoned babies while the owl peered. We are definitely far from our shadows and too deep in the ocean to exhale.

Yet, we know we have to keep it moving, even if our sorry legs has given up many years ago, when the cold winter stole its joints. What about the eye, eaten by crows when We, You, Me, I, They, Some, Many, laid almost deceased in the forest after a battle that was won through the needles eye. The blessing to have seen green fields in a beautiful dream was what sent us on this journey. A curse of a dream that never showed us the heavy burden stored in the farmers house and along the route he applied each day. Leaning to walk with frail bodies, scared faces, straining ears and brain shocks, we have come this far to never repeat our mistakes and gone too far not to throw a coin in the beggars pot.

However, with a rough patch to the eye and, an unforgettable and unbearable pain of a journey, we have finally arrived. Detached and stuttering words was what we used in communicating with the people in this new land. But it seems lonely here. Years gone in seconds and I am still lonely here, lacking contact with reality. All around us, we see people with broken hearts, eyes that hate us and insane sense of survival. How could we have forgotten, totally forgot to bring our loved ones along. It would have been a much greater burden to pull them with us, but if I had only just one of them, if only one remained alive as I did, this would have been a much happier place. All our trials and tribulations would have made sense to us.

The leaves do not talk, neither do the corns offer genuine laughter or do the trees fight back. Down this path of loneliness, only the ghosts of my friends who died on the journey visited me in my lonely home with pieces of guidelines which often accompanied genuine tears. Who would help me cloth the scarecrow, so as to keep my enemies away. Which one of the many strangers will inform me of when Mr Termite and his gang of soldiers are headed my way and will my dinning table be forever filled with actors? No! This cannot be all we dreamt of. I would have as well allowed the beast of the jungle steal my dream.

Before tomorrow, I will be heading towards the other side to fetch my loved ones. So much as the haunted nights are clearly in sight and even on the condition that I cannot guarantee that my life and theirs will ever cross path again, I am willing, ready to take the risk, as there is absolutely nothing here.

Thank you for reading. I hope this meets you well.

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