Soul’s happiness

Soul's happiness

We thought we broke off, we thought we broke our chains. Our dogs’ chains, we thought were gone. We thought we are free. Free of the exploiters, the cunning deceitful master, who told us they’ve given us freedom. Independence, they called it. But we shot ourselves, we blundered, we all did. They were looters, they were cheaters, brigadier of misery, and they left us in their likeness. They gave us the bad part. Their thieving spirits, our leaders inherited. They made us drink the wine of deception and foolery, and we revel in it, thus we steeped further down into sheer abyss.

 

Life was not hard before they came, they said we were tarrying but we were moving. Then we lingered on the statement, stopped completely on our tracks, wash away our memories, turned down our gods for theirs, who was born of their colour, and all about them seemed to matter. We became a microcosm of their large world, the blemish of the whitish universe, the stain of the human race. They came, they saw, and left us in perpetual quandary. We pledged fealty to them, in perpetuity, and now we thought we are free, we thought we got freedom. A lie of a thousand years! We convalesce not. We are miscreants in their eyes. They mystified us into believing they are no more. Stupefied in our own thoughts, we see not truly what they are.

 

We tarry in a flurry state of nothingness. Our elapsed happiness has begun to dawn on us. We now offer offerings so we could pay tithes. They have robbed us, dented our image, befuddle us of our identities, besmirch our dignity and now we traverse on their path. We could no longer sight the moon and tell sweet night tales. Child’s play of a primitive tribe, they called it. Our culture lost its way and we know not our history. It’s been filled with their tales. Who cares for Sophocles and Heraclitus? Is Aristotle our ancestor? They filled our history with their colonial exploits, imperialistic tendencies and their large unfolding empires.

 

Then they blame us for what we’ve become, what they made us become. Now, we are vindictive, our mouths are bitter, our soul is torn, our story is but pieces without no peace. Our hammers no longer send spine to the rod, the rod shaketh not. But our leader adheres not to us. They live by their rules, by the master’s way, the master’s style. They mastered the aloofness so greatly that the master became the apprentice. Now, they are the boss. Corruption soared in our country, we have no counter measures. Who are those countering it? The corrupted ones?

 

We shudder in dark agony, the light of darkness. Our silence crept through the walls of Jericho, and it fell, flat down it came. We have been made to suffered in silence, hold up our indignity and wish we had our lives. Our ship is already capsized, we have no leader to turn the tide around. We suffer, we flaunt in it. Gradually, we drown into the depth of the ocean, the Sheol of life. We drown in silence, not minding our lives, not noticing our effortless succumb. We drown till our soul departs from our body leaving it alone in its lonely world. There, our soul gained its freedom, its everlasting happiness.

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