LOST IN THE USHERS OF TYM

“Y r u so sad? I hav been noticing it 4 quite a few days ….”
“Who me??? HeHe… no, I m not sad . Wat gav u d impression dat I was sad ?”
“Dunno …. Nothing expressible ….”

This piece of conversation initially seemed funny 2 me. Der was no reason y dad shud feel I m sad ! I laugh n talk; do d normal routine stuff of eatin n sometyms going out! Even though I cant say dat I m happy, at least I m not unhappy!
Wat cud hav givn dad dat idea ….

Is it true, wat he said??? Is it possible dat I m really sad, only dat I didn’t know it yet.
Maybe my body knows it… jus dat I m stl unaware.
D next tym I caught ma reflection, I looked at it … n realized wat was missin.

D eyes r listless …. Empty.
D voice sounds bored, kinda like it prefers not 2 b heard ….
D smile ends wher it starts, on d lips ….

A year ago, it was different!
I was happy …. Genuinely happy!
Even ma body knew it! I knew it! We were in harmony!
D eyes were shiny n filled with laughter,
The voice bubbly n excited,
D laughter waiting 2 break out on the slightest pretext, an infectious laughter dat used 2 reflect in ma eyes in the form of the tears rolling down my cheeks!
Looking bac, it seems as if I m staring at an entirely different person …

I want dat vivacity bac!
Is it possible … mite b , all I need is 2 b truly happy again n dis thot only propels me into further misery coz I know I cannot b happy ere ….
Ma present life never makes me live …
It only succeeds in keeping me existing

But maybe in a few months tym , it will b different !
I mite b in a different place …
Change is not only possible but mite very well b on er way n sometimes on quite mornings I can even hear her breathe

The Prodigal Summer

Humankind holds a special place in the world. It’s the same place held by a mocking bird, in his opinion, and a salamander in whatever he has that resembles a mind of his own. Every creature believes this: the center of everything is me. Every life has its own kind of worship. Its mockery to think that a salamander is worshiping some God that looks like a big two-legged man. To him a man’s a shadowy nuisance compared to the sacred business of finding food and a mate and making a progeny to rule the mud for all times. To themselves and one another, those muddy little salamander lives mean everything.
”Who cares if a species is lost?” Well, the loss of any species would be a tragedy to some other creatures that was depending on it. Everything alive is connected to every other by fine, invisible threads. Things that u don’t see can help u plenty, and things u try to control will often rear back and bite you.
Solitude is a human presumption. Every quiet step is a thunder for the beetle life underfoot, a tug of impalpable thread on the web, pulling mate to mate and predator to prey, a beginning or an end. Every choice is a world made new for the chosen.
The spiraling flight of moths appears haphazard only because the mechanisms of olfactory tracking are so very different from our very own. But for species that rely on the sense of smell, the organism compares points in space, moves in the direction of greater concentration successively, moving in zigzag towards the source. His scent burst onto her brain like a rain of lights causing her to know him perfectly. This is how moths speak to each other. The wrong words are impossible when there are no words.