The Falling of a Leaf
Bleak, solemn, dead. That is what this once beautiful planet so rich with color and life has become. Not even the flutter of a bird's wings can be heard, no, the world is devoid of such a sound. Such a music it was, why mute it? Why, why, why!!! Such stupid questions we ask when the answers are so obvious, but like a devious parent we ask those questions. You are idiotic father/mother, face the facts, you do not exist, or do not care. So, we were created in your image, mother, that nature has blessed, but see where we are now. If you are good, we are not, and it is absolute and final that we were indeed created in your image, oh lord of lords, king of kings, then you are not defined for it must be us in our inferior status that must be wrong. Therefore, let us assume that you are greater then us, so insignificant, and we are wrong, it is justified to say that you are not defined, undefinable, for we have no right to define. If you are so kind you would have talked, guided and helped, but this is not so, look what has come of your indolence. Therefore we define you not, and only hold you in us as that part of our being that is undefined, untouched, presumably given to us by you, but no, you exist only for us, you exist, for we created you father, to take care of your children, to blame for our faults. But that creation was weak and has led us to death.
“What do you know about death!?” yelled Adam, “Hey, I asked you a question!”he said. “What do you know about death!?” he said in barely a whisper his jaws aquiver with rage. The old face was worn and tired, the locked secrets of a whole race were in his heart and seemed to bear upon him an aura of eternal suffering. Adam laughed in a forced fashion, he bowed his face, and, as he looked up, his pale blue eyes reflected the grey sun, for the dark clouds were a constant filter, Adam was used to this dead light by now. A tear trickled down the old man's cheek following the contours of the wrinkled face, a tear, so innocent and delicate in the destitute void which was the desert around him. An image suddenly flew through his mind as thin and sharp as a knife cutting into his very soul, a tree, a women, blood, it was all too overwhelming, the man keeled over in pain and tears gushed out of his eyes as blood would a deep wound. “What do you know about death !!!” he yelled again, pounding his head “you... you...death...you shit” Adam was now on all fours “You stole everything... you thief...what do you know about death, death?” he laughed “You do not even know yourself” and then he was quiet, sobbing.
Memories, memories, so treacherous, so dangerous to those who's quick brains permit it. “Why am i left in this empty world, to feel, to suffer, to die by the hand of an old friend” said Adam calmly once his tears were but wet lines on his reddened face, an other, if more recent memory of pain and suffering. Adam had encountered death before, and had developed a thick and torturous bond with the fellow, so much as to call him an old friend. Adam was alone, “Alone you say” said Adam with a chuckle “Not as long as i have my sand, and land” he said picking up and childishly throwing in the air while madly laughing, dirt and rubble from the desert floor and the crumbled fragments of buildings, which had stood so bravely and boldly, as had Adam, and were now but fragments, fragments of and old, worn, and almost inchoate memory.
With difficulty, Adam stood up, his weak bones cracking as was the sand and rubble under his feet. As he bent over to pick up his walking stick, which was in fact a thick branch, he forced his old and fragile shell to the remains of a park, no longer green, but yellow, a dreadful reminder of sunny days, happy days, “Better days” said Adam lowering his head and then the rest of his weightless cargo, to lay on his stomach, his nose pressed upon the dead grass, breathing in an inexistent smell, a smell of grass that he had once known what seemed to be long, long ago. With the little strength that he had, he prostrated himself into a cross-legged position, his hands, resting one on top of the other in the center of his crossed legs, as in mediation, but his eyes were wide open, starring in front of him. His face, slowly, very slowly, became white and lifeless. A leaf suddenly fell into his range of vision drawn down, as was he, by that great master, gravity. “Hello old friend” said Adam, starring at the leaf, and, as he fell into his eternal slumber, he heard, close to him, the laughter of a child, and saw a small hand stretch out and grab the leaf, as if to say “you are safe now”.