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Friday, 5 June 2009

Qisma


It was a beautiful morning, the sort of morning where you woke up early after a nice long sleep to a rising sun on the blue horizon as its glowing red lights spears through the faded clouds as the mist giving the cars, grass and everything it touches a blanket of showering vapours. As the birds freely chirping its songs and releasing its wings to the open morning sky, you sit there at your well paid apartment balcony while sipping on the hot instant coffee staring at this wonderful morning. It was the sort of morning where you would want to call sick for work and take the day off to enjoy this nature’s masterpiece but the souls in your house which you love so much forces you to work.
Beneath the comforters of the king-size bed lays your washed-out marriage but deep inside you, still lie a burning feeling that keeps you working. You moved to the crib in your vague room staring down at the soundless innocent child sleeping without a worry. Ironic, you think this thing you spend so much would grow up to be the adolescent who would have forgotten to appreciate you just like his brother and sister in the rooms beside you, just makes you wished you didn’t see this beautiful morning.
Sometimes you wish to just wake up to a cabin in the forest surrounded by the children and ancestors of the forest next to your dearest love which you still have connections with or perhaps even on a chalet near the beach as the rumbling waves wake you up to another day with the blue horizon as your window and the soft white powdered sand as your backyard. Or maybe just one day you want to do something extraordinary, something you would not normally do. Perhaps if you could go back and change a decision in your life things would be different, a date you should have went, a job offer you should have take or a phone call you should have answer.
But that’s all in past tense; it’s been done and can’t be change. As the reality slowly creeps back into your head you realise your already late. You had a quick shower barely had time to get fully acquainted with the cold water and finish the now cold coffee and two pieces of bread as your breakfast. You think to yourself how nice if I had a month holiday like these kids then maybe you could do the things you longed for. As you a start your mediocre car you think to yourself is this really how I pictured adulthood really is? Is this how I planned my life to be? No, when I was younger I dreamed to be a great man, an idol, leader of the world or someone famous. I dreamed of finding cure and getting good jobs and income. I dreamed of going places and doing things but none, none had been successfully accomplished. You’re on your mid 50’s near enough to your grave but yet you haven’t done a thing.
But your not alone, millions of others feel just the same. Nearly ¾ of the working is where he used to be that is of course before he knows the real purpose in life before he meets me.
My name is Kismet/Qisma or Fate/Providence in mans on their 50’s suffer the same problems. The mid-life crisis hits almost everyone and John Dalmore was no exception. He was just like you where you are now your language. I am there beside you as you read this or while you making love to your mistress or when you take a dump. I’m everywhere and no where. There is no escaping me just delays. Soon you and I would meet, if you’re eating a Macdonald and drinking a six-packs with a cigarette stuck at your moustache and think smart enough to drive and read this then we should be seeing any second now.

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