Thou art Great

These are the days when the sun showers rains and the rains shine bright. These are the days of sunshine and rains. These are the seasons of refreshing wells. This is the time for metamorphosis. It is a dispensation of springs and sprouts. It is the phase for molting.

Seemingly they are not days for hibernation. They are not seasons for rumination. It is not a time for wilting. It is not the dispensation of withering and weathering. It is not the phase of drying up.

This is what causes me to stretch my neck and my imagination in tandem. The two have learned to co-exist. They follow a rhythm. Together they work seamlessly with other parts to produce thermonuclear-like energy that drives me. That is why we are unstoppable. We cannot just go through a wall but also under it, over it and around it.

I stretch my neck with one purpose only: To look to the outside. I do not want distractions and sideshows. Neither am I ready for theatrics and gymnastics. Cartwheels on catwalks are for tomorrow, another day, or perhaps never.


Looking through the grills of my window afford me the privilege and pleasure of seeing the exquisitely formed sky. It is bluish, with clouds dispersed sparingly. These clouds are pregnant with rain and I can guess it wouldn’t be long before birth pangs hit like a rocket propelled grenade. It may not be in the next one hour. It may not be in the next two hours. It may not be today, but for sure the signs are written all over the sky.  A baby will be born. The mother will be laughing with unchained joy. Tears of joy will stream from above and water the sad sod. The hearts are singing and ringing as feet jingle. These hearts have been famished and forlorn. They were far-flung: A million furlongs from the Creator. Wandering thoughts will be coalesced in wonder as the wind of change wind up the tour of the womb. Power and powder will shake the skies when the baby is born.


This space before my inquisitive eyes is magnificent and it is spread out like a Swahili mat. Call for me Galileo Galilei, for I know he will be fascinated as I am.  I have heard of Stephen Hawking. This implies that black holes are already laying illegitimate claim on my imagination. It is unfortunate that I cannot see them.  Possibly I will disappear forever – before I decipher anything – when I hit their territories. The mighty pull of giant magnet is enough to tilt the course of my trepidation-filled excursion. The twinkling stars, the open space that looks uninterrupted are remarkable. Infinite! Boundless! Never ending! A treadmill!


The extraordinary flares of nature are a cause of bamboozlement. The foundry-like flickers want to make a monkey of me, but am too smart for them. Surprisingly my mind cannot twig how this universe works, but at least I can see the moving parts. The conveyor belt is moving. The centrifuges are running. The engine is grinding. The cycles of nature are as intact as Pharaoh Rameses’ tomb.


The sky will get dark. The night will be calm. Crickets will be chirping in delight. The terrific traffic noise will suffer from a coma. The stars will lit the vast dark sky with glows and the twilight will be sparkling in splendor and synchrony.

I am sashaying through the space in a lovely spacecraft. It is finely built of Lebanon cedars. It handles sharply and it is fast. It is a roller-coaster. It is an awe-inspiring adventurism.


I fly away. Far away I go. Very far from reality I fly: To a foreign planet. Deep within the space. They told me it will be a terrifying yet venturesome flight. Lo and behold! They were right. I want to know how it feels to be a Martian in an iron-rich environment.

Thus I choose to relax by breathing in and out. I sink myself in a Persian-made cushioned seat. I talk to myself – as it is my norm. I giggle all the way and sing my happy songs. It is fantastic! It is cloud ten!


It appears that the spacecraft is cruising through uneven intergalactic highways at supersonic speed and I am hoping NASA will not flag me down. ‘This programmed hauler cannot crash into NASA satellite” I reassure myself. I know Chinese, Russians, Britons, French, Israelis, Japanese, Ukrainians, Iranians, Indians and North Koreans are here too.  Am I going forward or backward in space? Am going forward or backward in time? These are pertinent questions that throng my thrill-filled life. And I know you too dear reader have similar questions. Will I be able to see the titanosaur? What about Hammurabi?  Will I encounter cancer-free human beings? ‘Breaking News on Sky News: Scientists have discovered a drug that can cure all diseases. It has been nicknamed Super Broad Spectrum. The drug does not have side effects’.

Are there more stars and planets in this endless universe?


I am a witness of the gigantic creatures. You are an eyewitness to unimaginable heaves.  From coast to coast. From savannas to rain forests. From the plains to rift valleys. Awesome!


My expedition continues. A zillion miles have been covered. I press the mystic gizmo on the dashboard and it instantly displays the entire space on the screen. Did I say the entire space?

My journey continues! My story is not over!


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