Chillaxing amidst Global Warming

The clouds above had a colour different from the usual cotton texture. It was neither the greyish gloom before the rain or the sombre orange seen at dawn and dusk. It had an unknown yellowish tinge that could have conveyed the melancholy solitude or bloomy hope at the sametime.The sun-rays peeking through the pores assumed an unfamiliar shade that glared the surroundings to a burning haze.Such was the specter that even the rippling waters seemed to desparately still while potraying the reflection of the sky above.Not a single bird was at sight spreading its wings across the gloomy dull breeze that stirred no living soul.The primitive state of existence was brooding silent in anticipation from the heavens above.

And then the orange droplets came down pricking deep into the flesh.The first acid rain wiped out the green covers that strecthed across my valley.

The mercury is soaring.Few more degrees northwards and I'll watching out for the glass to crack and the silvery droplets dance on the floor.Outside my lazy labyrinth there are faces known and unknown.As the pages from the calendar flutters by the known faces fades into the unknown darkness and unknown faces spark out the known smiles.Tuned to the theme of the changing beats even my reflection in the mirror takes the cue.But with a sublime stubborness I cling on to the web of nostalgic montage hopefully to be spared by the rising hurricane that enventually engulfs us all.

The piercing lightening across the hanging cumulonimbus marks the fury that blows in with thundering claps.The filaments of my cocoon proves too delicate to shield me from the raging tempest.With each twist and turn of the raging gale another of my appendeges sheds into tiny bits.Finally when the lull sibsides the naked me stares down to find liberation amongst the wreckage.

It's hotter than hell here.Just like a marinated chicken inside the heated up tandoor I feel the flames wrapping me up while the stench of burnt meat fills the air.Slices of clouds in the dull sky above promise not a single drop of precipitation to quench the thirst of this scortching desertland.Between the shadows of dead tree trunks the last of the oasises holds only a few drops of the murky waters to reflect the pricky cacti.Only soul carrying hope is the scavenger spreading its wingspan over the horizon in pursuit of the carcasses in this arid landscape.


It's not about the enlightment from the Inconvinient Truth or liberation from The State of Fear.It's a day to day journal of a hopeless soul trying his hands at the extinguishing skills while his pants are on fire.

Stay tuned.