EvenTide Dream

                       

"They must understand that we can only lose by taking the offensive. Patience and time are my warriors, my champions." Leo Tolstoy

 I watch as I stride the earth making them accelerate. Another time lived, other lives to live on. I watch as I stride the earth making them accelerate towards the end game. 

One time has ended , whilst others live to live on. Behind my measuring tick, the feet walk, ducks swim, and mornings slide from night to morning like the wheels on a cart moving forever forward.

 I watch awaiting the brightest crow convey, the rouse of sunlight . Promises lace with scruples epitomises humanity, to me the god of the hour, an hour weighs better than life.

In the evening tide nature whizzes below the clouds, and the Earth's surface walks closer than heaven. The lakes, oceans and sea flash light and throws torrents of glare. 

Fishes thrive in liquid slush, their lives weighed in my wake. The world view becomes new as humans views rewrite the stars and the cloud mystery becomes sling with both legs stretched on each other.

The tarred road undulates, like elephant grasses, the humans as miniature stars wink and sometimes like supernova die as I stride on. 

The neighbors—codes, transmitters of the information, with my hands hop onto the jaw as becoming a world. I open my gaze as a new train is birth again, and the train change the destination to a destruction where humans becomes the gods of gods.

  Tires whirl pollutants, and dance to the echo of silence and I twirl and twist like the soul reaper, the hour glass glints in my hands at morrows beckoning.

I march forward for now clothed in garments spun from raindrops as I shake my cloak I awake humanity the saints and sinners as they tread the wheel of life. 

Their faces faceting happiness, grief and regret loom in bond of the towing cloud. Dust below the moon shadow dimples grief and sorrow like a mother god. 

The silhouettes scenes of the burglars grip, won and lose by whisker. I just spin the world I watch and I move forever forward. 

They are a smarter future in the darkness that makes the morrow come with the hope of gravity trains, mars travels, machinery noises and the kids of the brains working like a ticking clock on the wall of the morrow. 

The cock crows, the mirror of the mornings comes within hours, days, months and years and human made it into hours of practice, and failure, failure and success.  

With humans the moon glare, a god of fertility advance into a form of mystery answers. Human are mysterious, unkind kind, chancery reacher, and the morrow teacher. The cups cook dinners when wares are the chefs. 

I can tell how nature admit, appreciate in benevolent and grateful splendor, for the spring in the life, and the fall when dry and crumble within the sun big blow and the sky maul fall and the blowing wind. 

I watch them snare and snores at the death and live bed. Roses bloom in the morning, and falls by the nightfall. The hour flight is the camcorder to all zones and regions. A smile crept on as I twerk towards the timely manner. 

~ Mickey

 

About The Author

 Bello Micheal Oluwatimileyin is a narrative, lyrical poet, and a writer. His writing surface on many genres, like Christian fictions, secular mysteries and crimes, family dramas and many more.