War and Peace...and Fumata Bianca

  

in the doldrum 

of so many wars

on ground

in air

on seas

and then AI...

Pope Leo's warning to the world;

Encyclical is the new

word learnt.    

the kittens have all morphed into little furballs bounding rebounding, chasing shadows and randomness. Adrift, a maina's glass eye stares holding nothing but the  grey ceiling. The brood shrieks, suddenly hungry and impatient... Josie, the mother

parades her find clutching it with her deadly incisers, loosened plumage gently brush the floor: never again shall I covet them. Never again would  the pages of old books be turned to admire the feathers found on many a walk. The notes left unsung hang in 

humid summer air, cloying and heavy, smeared in the yellowing smell of blood and gleeful cries...a sense of

victory, violence, art...repose.

Midst this incessant buzz of 

unfounded joy, the solitary being 

lingers within its rampart: prayer

rises like a smoke signal, an SOS

to whoever might care to answer...

An unexpected yet long-overdue visit from Maya, the neighborhood cat, has stirred the napping feline family into a scuttle. Ferocious roars meet roars, viscious hissings respond to hissings. Territorial disputes need to be settled. Russia-Ukraine, Lebanon-Israel, India-Pakistan, and many others come to mind. That's the way it is; has always been. Mountains that rise, torrential rains that fall,  a heart that reaches out to another seeking a sanctuary of love, a restless Odysseus adventures into the receding horizons, many a soul slips through Life in search of stranger realms...

in a cathartic moment Creation explodes into Existence: deserted expanses of the great conch shell fill with the murmur of the rising seas; fired-up seeds dive deep, stirring up cages of darkness; monsoon winds carry the intoxication of petrichor... Time sleeps, liberated from  the swing of the pendulum.