3 BEASTS TO ‘BEHEAD’ BEFORE 11

The poetic dialogue below, written in somewhat ‘colloquial’ English, is a masterpiece! A dialogue between a younger and an older fellow; an inter-generational dialogue with a transcendent posture and overtone; on the face-value, the dialogue seeks to remind potential New Year citizens of the outstanding maxim that ‘each year matters’; on a more philosophical and metaphysical level, it seeks to draw the attention of the reader to the fact that ‘…not only does Each New Year matter, BUT MORESO, each experience and encounter in the New Year does’. Enjoy and indulge accordingly.

Loitering by a dubairic street side, I somewhat chanced upon a flying hefty stone

Fled the rugged stone to me it seemed from a lousy old man lazily leaning on a throne

I sought of him an answer to his seemingly treacherous provocation; sadly though, he offered me nothing but a noisy smile

Most disturbed was I, and my feelings from deep within my bowels gushed up to vindicate a bash

But for the uncomfortable past my young life had hosted, I would have gone ahead in a rush

Still smiled he, and upon approach, gently noised: ‘hello, my little son…’

In dismay at his uttermost unconcern at my near hurt, I turned to vacate his jurisdiction in disgust

Two steps farther away, I heard him chuckle most instructively…as if to say, “if only you knew what I had to tell you, you would have quenched my thirst in advanced with a bottle not half full”

So instructive was the old fellows’ defiance that I turned to quiz, saying, ‘Sir, what do you wish of me’?

To this inquiry, a gentle pat to my upper shoulders were well deserved (he may have thought); and surely, the old fellow denied me not of it

Two seconds into the pat at my slender back, he beckoned me to come

Followed I did, as if enchanted by his compelling ambience or by a parrots apparel

I pursued to a halt; he sat, and so did I …

He grabbed a calabash of water, and so did I … (as if to proof to him my posture of an unintimidated soul)

Still, without a word but abounding in sinister smiles, he grabs a piece of stone(and though I did same, I was now lost in my thoughts, wondering what at all on earth I was seeking there wandering with an old lousy fellow)

Little had my wondering thoughts gone ahead of my reasoning, when I heard a voice more calmly and energizing; the words carried on that voice tossed into my spell bound ears, and the words were thus: ‘If thou wouldest thrive in 2017, three(3) things ye must of necessity change before 2017. The three are: thy home, thy phone and thy cancerous-bone’

Here was I, a stranger to all the pivots of his trinity!

First, I, as a ‘street-child’ had not an ‘home’…

Second, for the same reason as above, ‘why and how shall I fancy having a phone’? I thought to myself…

Third and last, without a history of cancer nor the pleasures which seem to necessitate cancers, it will be unthinkable to bear the duty of suffering such malady…

While the thoughts paced to-and-fro my mind, the old fellow motioned with his now tender arms for me to watch… and in few seconds sprang forth a thickened smoke from his blazing pipe; a smoke which drew shapes and images as it ascended the staircase of the air where we sat

Once again, he spoke to me asking: ‘tell me some of the images you saw’; to this, I answered, (i) images of death (ii) images of crowds (iii) images of love & friendship

A rather loud, unassuming and unapologetic laughter amidst claps followed my response; showing his liking for either my answer or my persona or both

Just while I was wondering why his rather ecstatic behavior, he breaks the confusion that silence broods upon and saids:

‘My son, to advance and achieve in 2017, learn to (i) die to your comfort zones and give in to risks (ii) bury shame and multiply in your value to others (iii) avoid detractors and deal decisively with distractions; if you do these, then you will have paid homage to the trinity; and shall receive a due reward in due course in 2017’

To this end, my journey in life; from the streets of woes to the streets of gold…thanks to the old folks tales

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