Bundles In the Air
Trucks lined up one behind the other with the little that they have left and the drippings from the fountain piled up on top looking for a suitable place to make the next stop but the fear of nowhere to go keep haunting their mind as the trucks barreled down the street in the hundred and sixty degree heat baked in the tempest and they watch the wind blows in four different directions.
Suddenly the spirit of uncertainty captivates me and a drowsy feeling overpowered me, I could hardly keep my eyes open and perspiration starts dripping from my face and in split second my attire was soaked and the sweat from my body starts running about, and I froze in the chair.
I kept looking at the computer screen hoping that someone could see me and send someone to rescue me but you weren’t there and the sweat kept purging out of my body.
Everything on my body was soaked to my inner flesh but I finally worked up the strength and rub my hands together and all of a sudden, I got my energy back.
Bundles in the air keeps floating with the stream, bundles in the air kept messing with my dreams, they have no abiding city and everyone with this strange look on their face kept shouting from the top of their voice as if judgment was near and the city began to fear.
They drove for miles with the sun in their backs and a journey that will never stop, blocks of concrete piled upon one another, steel bent with chunks of concrete slab hanging over them, and fabrics of assorted color stuck beneath.
It’s as if the owners slipped out of them to spare their lives from a narrow escape of death. And the leaning buildings spared from the bomb's wrath stares at them and mercy fell into the beggar’s cup at last.
They drove pass miles and miles of them but their spirit could not bend. The anger swell in their jaws and they held onto one more day hoping that something good would come their way but mercy watches from a distant and courage keeps pushing them on.
Such a long way from home with no place to roam and as reality begins to sink in, the core of their soul began to burn and they suddenly find themselves without a home.
The urban sprawl and the imaginations, wrapped up in their arms accompany them on the journey, and they found themselves in a distant unloading the relics from the trucks and building insecure tents and getting ready to move again.
The land is vast but it is not fertile, the mountain is high but it is not steep, and the well in the ground is not deep, I am searching for my lost sheep; it is grazing on the grass land so help me to compose this song.
I have lived my life for a thousand years and destiny will take you there, the bundles are mounting in the air and I don’t have much time to spear.
Remove the fountain from the truck and purify your soul with the song you have composed, a bundle of joy is waiting for thee come and meet me at the mountain spring and set your spirit free.
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2024
|