Saturday, 28 January 2012

The writings of Sunny Caane (1)

It didn’t seem a trifle task when I endeavour to put my hands to the plough. But upon labouring on the task, I felt so much strain that the weight almost became unbearable. It was like walking underneath a scorching heat, like treading on nails and walking a tight rope. I considered much whether to fold my hands and submit to where I came; then I remembered that the master of the business is not so forgiven to those who shrink back. The reflection on quitting became an un-desirous possibility for the weight of it all that is the force of the Master’s wrath will be much more than if I bore this current burden. So I persevered and achieved a noble end; the master was much glad and I too was filled with smiles of tiredness and gladness.

At first I saw him do things that good men ought not to do - it all became clear that men can clothe themselves in godly apparels but when naked they are worse than the devil. It was so with Tom; the shock of uncovering his sin was like the discovery of America by Columbus except I was filled with much sadness. The night was yet young so I encouraged myself to go to his house. Tom lived ten minutes away so I exercised my legs. There was much joy in the air as kids hung round the corner and little ones were leaving the park with their parents. To my surprise tom left his front door on a hatch so I let myself in. In astonishment as I walked to his living room I saw him lying with a woman that was not his wife  - Tom looked up and our eyes met.

Ever since of late I have held on to a fragile hope of love ever since the midnight when I saw her by the bar sitting as lovely as ever a goddess could. I knew her before and my feelings for her came suddenly like a rush of wind on a clear sunny day, it blew and overcame my mind. Since then I have been weak at her appearance and now seems a good chance to tell her. So I did. I approached her walking uprightly and then sat right next to her. Claire I said - she responded surprised that she knew my name. I continued and told her how beautiful she was and dared her to let me be hers. She smiled with her eyes twinkling and then stared into my eyes to say that it was impossible for us to be. I probed her to give me sound reasons why this cannot be and she insisted on a past hurt - she said little of it but this memory has placed a tear in her heart. Unwilling to accept her rejection, I told her that I know its not easy to give up your heart but she must move on from her past, no one is perfect and we all carry a history of which future we can change. I told her to give me a chance, that I would walk the extra mile - I will be the man who will run the hills and valleys with her. 

There is always something sweet, something sorrowful when I come to sit beneath the weeping and happy midnight stars. My thoughts hastily hasten to his small brown eyes where life as sweet as peace once dwelt so abundantly that all who saw and held him were captivated and secured in his joyfulness. I know that much of him is engraved among the stars and the reason why one star in particular shines brighter than the rest since his passing away is because of his uncompressible joy. The tears still fall from my eyes, wetting the blanket on which I lie. 


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