(by Don Niko Godilano)
The flower is on the rooftop, kissing the gleams of the sun. Perhaps the rain will not fall today. The rain is not falling today… The rain is not falling today. The rain did not fall today. The rain did not fall today, it did not yesterday…. The rain never fell, never ever fell again.
Imagine a desert, yes…. sky with no clouds- dry and dead. This is my world- a cloudless sky. This is the first time I saw a flower… beautiful, lovely…. Do not hate my world. This is warm- I long for warmth. Love is warmth and I’m always cold, forever in the stillness. I love this world for its heights, its silent midnights when the moon is full, for in it the sands reflecting her light and seem this world is made up of stars, because nights are without lights, and the stars do not fly on the sky. Aside from the flower, there’s nothing more to see, only the grains of sand that hides the secrets of this world.
Today I am a child, yesterday I was, and tomorrow I will be, forever a child. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see, it grew. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see, its roots. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see, its trunk growing. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see, its leaves. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see, skill. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see. There’s nothing to see in the desert but grains of sand.
And this desert hides its secrets, so also it hides me and my secret. I met a flower yesterday, with many moon and sun passed by that never rained, and I am there…. so many stories to tell.
Today, I sit at the top of the tree that bears flowers and fruits, the only friend- from my past until now. But someone was looking at us as I kiss her leaves and adores her flowers. Today they were two, staring at us as I held the flowers to my hand and seek the juices of her fruits, drinking every drop of her blood, then kissing her branches yet again. Today they were three, now four, then five, six, seven… Tomorrow I’ll wish for rain. Now I am crying.. Stop. Please stop. Don’t kill me. “Stop this!” I cry as they climb her up, cut her down, plunder her fruits, steal her beauty, her flowers, tear her leaves, destroy her…until she was left dry. Today I’ll wish for the rain. She is dying. Help! She is dying…. Dry….and I’ll be alone. Again, tomorrow, I’ll wish for the rain, then for the following days, I’ll still wish for the same thing- for a hope of a flower to grow old again. This is my world where I live, a desert. And they are people e time for be in this world, thirsty, hungry and despaired. They no longer have time for beauty…for this world died long time ago. They say this is the future of a bird that landed and died… the remnants are us, history.
This is the world that ended, forever, forever, again.