Present/past?

Engulfed in the modern present

Where the primitive ways have substantially been deteriorated

No matter how we maneuver to stitch back this torn threads

Where a needle has journey

It’s amazing how it departs distinct traits

Even your eyeing magnifiers would be of an inappropriate use in this scenario

The pothole shaped seems would be insultingly screaming at your iris’s at a close distance that you would feel your eyeing pastures invaded

Modernism has confined us in this cocoon

Like caterpillars at a transition of being butterfly’s

But what are groomed into being?

Our efforts of remaining harnessed to the antique ways of existing are producing no fruit

It’s like quenching a thirst of a man who’s been in the of wilderness of Kalahari with a spoon filled water drop

Your Samaritan good deeds are an increment to the severity of this pain

Yes you might have your Mona Lisa portrait graphited beautifully on your bedroom walls

Your grand mothers and fathers pictures plucked at the chest of your closet door, greeting you when ever you open it

And your infancy pictures constituting the first page of your memory album where your trusted feet were your knees and hands

But

Your longing of the past can be satisfied by nothing but the present

Through change only occurs inwardly

The outward appearance is just a barrier that one needs to get past

So to arrive at the fertile land of the heart and start scattering a seed that is certain to offer a harvest

The art of existing is better characterized by eras

And the scribbler of it all has been so adroit fully able that he conceived you in his senses

And blew you with a command to exist

To expand

And fill the whole earth

To complement it all he positioned you in the present