LOST WITH TIME
(A short story)
She lost her elegance at a time when she needed it most. The tree her owls perched on lost her soul. The birds came no more with victory songs. Sadly, time crept past her feet; made her time to suspend in bubbles, shot her ancestral pot— she bled and surely her time was here.
Reflections of how we used to play by the fire at night; sat with gray elders sharing tales of old came knocking gently on my mind’s portal like bulletins. Grandpa, the last soul whose spirit sheltered her died just after the last three market days of the quarter moon. His spirit fled into the old sky; made her last days ‘spiritless‘.
While I stood behind the calm river on a morning twilight; awaiting her ripples to take me home, I could see her soul drowning into the deepest of the 21st Century. Time has evolved its fate and swept her away like the chase of a tornado.
The last shrine in her abdomen has grew enduring the whacks of time with the seven huts. Death and misery have given us one hopelessly empty village. All is gone; faded within the mean eyes of time and tales.
© The Village Thinker