The downy cotton fibers now fly, taking wings with wind they rise. Higher, over the shrubs, past the Neem, above the eucalyptus. Into the turquoise boundaries it elevates steadily. The carpet of green fabric glitters from the height, and the sun brightens the gratified petals on the altitude, glorified they sparkle, so vivid in there beauty. Sailing in the zephyr, it floats in blithe, in a voyage of increasing elevation, never does the steady rise betray a sign of haste.
The gust powers in from a distance, the grace of rise is mercilessly destroyed. The wings are dusted by the glittery dry sand, its no more white, its no more bright. whirl-pooling in the air a sudden descent starts. An uncontrolled, unnerving fall begins, more soil and more sullying continues and with gusto one final flurry of wind beats the cotton on the floor. Beaten it rolls and drags on the floor, the burden of history pains it, the weight of pang heavy and uneasy, the hour and minutes long and suffocating.
But as the hour goes a wind blows again rising over the fences and over the tense scenery the fiber rises again , traveling skywards once again....
Thursday, September 2, 2010
the Rise & Rise
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