Too Big for his Boots

 

Yared Huluf 2-2-22

 

When everything has gone for good

The he and beast

We’re the only ones left 

On a land considered a waste;

Seared and scorched,

No one would want to rest,

Let alone settle,

In this forsaken barren,

Stinging nettles!

 

Umpteen he paused to think,

Casting at his gnomon,

On how many times he crisscrossed    

The Barren plane,

Videos From Around The World

But for the life of him,

Open or shut the encephalon scrim

But he could not remember 

No matter hard he knocked his brain

Or let it go dream.

 

As a resident by design or accident, 

The only thing he sees and hears;

Wind gathering speed,

Turning turbulent tourbillion,

A Haboob to breed,

Deprecating the eyes blind,

Siriasis began to grind,

And where he stood

Quicksand running deep into the ground 

Entombed alive appearing abound!

 

His endurance, nonetheless,

only for two simple things on his mind to address.

 

It is not a willful desire 

To be a rocket scientist,

Nor any other sort of a mischief 

But searching for green leaves,

The beast’s hunger to forgive,

And water the throat of both to relieve.

A constant grief 

He had to live with,

Even if he wished,

couldn’t ignore he believed.

 

Time flies,

One day he came across an orifice,

Where a shinning liquid profuse,

He could not believe his eyes

Bent down on his knees

Brought his face close to the surface,

And without thinking twice,

He and the camel imbibed the fluid 

Out of its natural vase.

 

Unlike no other times 

Both felt not only slaked 

But energized to run round,

Kicked the fetlock and flak

And to the air off they took.

 

The span of the desert,

Where the sun never seemed to set,

Became not only reachable,

But they went far and beyond.

 

A miracle did happen

God was real and born:

His prophet chosen and sworn!

Dirty Liquid turned Gold!

 

A miracle;

A parable propined by an Oracle,

A forlorn Bedouin with glazed eyes,

Dormant mind,

Unable to deal 

With a complex puzzle

Wandering across the desert span 

Searching for elusive water 

and green leaves to guzzle.

 

Began to develop a wingspan

Longer than that of a dragon, gargantuan. 

 

Surprise, surprise, my oh my!

He then declared that he is the king of the sky;

No gallinaceous or birds of prey,

Without his permission could fly.

He made it clear for foe and allies 

That the rule is here to comply;

For he has the means to descry and spy,

Thanks to the fuel the desert holes supply.

 

An oppressed Eagle

Feeling uncomfortable

For the lost air space

Until then considered his own

Came up with a scheme

A clodpoll Bedouin couldn’t unravel. 

It perched on a pole of electric cable

And turned itself as an engine fuel,

rechargeable.

Then the Eagle began to soar fly,

Higher than the Bedouin on a back of a camel splayed,

Could possibly try.

 

Unable to deal with the sky devil

In midair he nearly died,

 

Frustrated and exhausted, 

The camel plummeted,

And came down to the ground fragmented: kaput!

 

The Eagle has indeed become 

An electrical vehicle,

A mephitis, miasmatic flatulent camel couldn’t tackle:

 

Another miracle of an Oracle;

Should I say did happen again,

This time, Quiet, Clean and Green,

That blazons the end of the noise of the  mean, Bedouin!