Annexation

I have been eyeing on a province lecherously , devising stratagems to annex it but in vain. They say , if I could conquer over it, I shall be all powerful.

The possible outcomes of the annexation are very enticing. I try relentlessly but I reach nowhere.

The subjects of the Province are rather delirious, they have no ruler to administer them. They run astray with no authority to rein them. They go berserk, they go frantic, they go extremes like a wild mad horse running amuck with no one to lasso it.

But, howsoever , deranged they may be, they have a potential immense. If used properly, they could yield wonders. I decided to churn out their potentials , to extract their genius for my favor.

The territory is but a small topographic entity. Howsoever small sized it may be, I can’t give up the avarice to annex it. I want it, anyhow, at any cost.

I have seen its soil. The alluvium is of the most superior quality. If one could irrigate it, it shall yield the best crops, its trees shall be laden with the best fruits…fruits that would be ambrosial in nature. But, I see no one irrigating it. The land stands idle and apparently looks barren. The trees are leafless let alone any fructification. I have decided to reap the benefits of its land. I shall see to the day when its trees shall be borne with Ambrosia.

I dream of the day when I shall pronounce my kingdom ship over the subjects and they shall work under my administration as one being…United... I shall bring about a fraternal brotherhood among them. There shall be no chaos, no speck of disorder and no delirium. There shall be Concordance , Bonhomie and Peace. I shall aspire for the productivity of the highest quality.

The Province has a quite popular name. They call it 'The Mind'

Is this THE ONE?

I sit in front of this blank piece of paper, rather numb with a wistful desire to ink it with one of those writes that I would be simply penning down but it shall, in actual, be a decree of the Providence…my pen, as if , dictated by some mystic power, shall just run an errand of His.

The pen shall run effortlessly , its ink forming letters , thus words and thus sentences…my pen, as if, possessed by the divine spirit.

I still stare at this piece of paper point blank waiting for His command…my motor senses waiting with baited breath for the time when they would involuntarily lift the pen and start expressing what they have been commanded to.

I write this scrawling while I wait for His decree. His decree shall be far more superior than this filthy thing that I have been writing that makes no sense, whatsoever. After all, how can a low despicable wretch like me, compete with the one who is immaculate, with the one who is invincible, with the progenitor of the Universe, of the galaxy, of the countless stars, of the sun, the planets, the solar system and several such systems that we still have a very inconspicuous idea about, the creator of all that which is still unknown to us, our Father… ?
How could I ever compete with the all pervading, the omnipotent , the omniscient?

The waiting still continues. It’s a long wait indeed. Doubts start arising in my mind regarding if ever I shall be decreed by Him, if ever I shall be bestowed on the privilege to run an errand for Him.

As time passes, my faith in THE DECREE fades. I feel there must be some obstacle between His declaration and my pen. An obstacle equivalent to darkness, to ignorance.

Now, I wait for this darkness to wane. Even the mighty earth waits for the sun’s rays for eight long minutes to illuminate it, can’t I wait for some more time before He illuminates me with His Word?

Meanwhile, I prepare the reservoir in me. I cleanse it. I remove the clutter so as to make space for the Word to ensconce itself comfortably.

Then, all of a sudden, a thought settles in me and sets my mind afire. Thoughts are indeed inflammable. My faith starts forming roots anew with that one last realization that if He is the creator of all, if everything around is His design then that implies that even I am one of His designs, even I have a part of His in me that I need to unearth by digging myself, by delving deeper in the oceans in me.

I come to realize that there is no reason that shall keep me aloof from His divine intervention, of His decree. Its bound to come or may be it has come in the form of this very write that I had previously, so disrespectfully deemed as ‘a filthy scrawling’.

Bellum

I heard the clouds rumbling , the sky distraught and overcast. The good old Phoebus too frightened to fight the marching clouds. He hid himself somewhere yet streaks of his golden hair could be seen behind the retinue of clouds , through the cracks in them. Then , slowly, not a single strand of his golden hair could be spotted. The sky was weighing with clouds. Their army in a belligerent mood. They wanted to confront the earth, to beat it with their pouring.
The clouds burst and lightening shrieked and thus ordered its army to attack. It thundered It rained , it rained and the unarmed earth put down slain.
The gusty winds rustled through the trees , assaulted them. The poor ones shuddered in fear.
The clouds announced their victory with one loud deafening roar. I closed my ears as tightly as I could.

The sky couldn’t bear the torment anymore and at once commanded the clouds to cease fire. And, the clouds having drained their belligerence , retracted.

The old Phoebus came out slowly with diffident steps, replacing an obscure murky sky with a lucid blueness.
Phoebus smiled enchantingly .
His golden locks shimmered and a rainbow arched against the vault of the sky.