Keep your eyes peeled,

To inconsequential things;

A leaf caught up in an awkward gust of wind,

Tumbling and turning, mid-air, on a wet & cold day-

Like an acrobat pushing himself to extreme to impress judges, on the olympic stage-

To collide (for a fraction of a second) with the age-old face of  a driver of a horse-drawn cart,

Causing him to momentarily veer his horses right-of-centre from his chosen path-

A violent collision ensues like a roll of thunder that shudders you in your skin

With a four-wheel drive that would have otherwise sped by (had the old man held back a millisecond more)-

A driver lost in his own thoughts, struggling to see in a sudden uncharacteristic tropical downpour- 

The impact forced the driver’s vehicle to ricochet and come to a jack-knifed halt nearby (leaving him unconscious on his inflated front-wheel air bag),

Breaking two of the nearest horses legs, and causing the cart to fall onto its side into a ditch by the side of the road;

While one horse lay dying in the ditch, the other was already dead & still crushed beneath the weight of the first, 

Like his horses, the driver was not too long for this world it seemed:

The force of the collision had flung him a distance and some, where he lay paraplegically-still for either help or his time to come,

His reflections were fragmented, his face & body soaked through by the rain, 

With a pool of blood gradually forming beneath him turning the grass & sitting water a muddy-red,

He could still make out the screams of one of the two horses that were his pride & joy,

Such magnificent creatures he had raised from foals to mare

Tears brim and mingle with the rain;

A life begun as a farm-had, he wedded his first true love,

Together, they were blessed with four good sons & a girl,

And spent many good years together, during which she brought him much luck,

He bought a farm of his own and earned coin to hire many farm-hands of his own,

Ah, she was a sweet lass, he remembered…

For, three winters ago, she fell ill and passed away in his arms- if he was not mistaken, with a smile framing a still beautiful face in peaceful content, like when they were young,

O’ God, you giveth and then taketh away!

Leaving in its wake such bittersweet melancholy,

With those words, this old man did close his eyes to life’s glory & troubles for the final time-

For the driver of the four wheel drive had regained consciousness during the old man’s reverie-

And realising what he had done,

He (rather than call for or seek, help) chose to drive away

Condemned to his end, the old man’s body lay dead not too far from those of his horses, 

If you would look closer at his face: a hint of a contended smile (like that of his predeceased wife) framed his otherwise age-weathered face,

Still – a most unexpected & undignified end to a hard-fought, honourable, life-

Giving answer to the question that: there is no inconsequential things but just the random menagerie of life.

He walks with a swing,

A skinny, lanky, frame-

In a designer suit:

Swinging like a catwalk model,

Giving it a bit of this & that, with a zing!

A curious, secret, smile; framed by sparkling, knowing eyes-

Casting admiring looks from side-to-side; at taken-aback passers-by!

As he makes his way down the paved street-

In a dead straight line; whirling around impediments (with a smile, & a bob of the peaks)! Like in times gone by, with
a bowler hat…

Though this young man’s head is completely un-adorned, with nought but a haircut of modern accord-

One hand held aloft for balance or effect, none know not;

In the other, he carries a black walking stick, apparently of fine workmanship,

He waves it with extravagant gusto & flourish-

To appease the disgruntled overtaken & give pause to the snickering sticklers & quick-draw abusers;

For his journey is of particular import:

To strike two unsuspecting city loners (oft making eye contact but too afraid to talk) with Cupid’s arrow (or, in this case, a walking stick!)-

In essence:

A bolt of lightning, buying a moment in each other’s busy (yet unfulfilled lives)- to give an opportunity to tentatively exchange smiles and (finally) talk!

Not every strike finds love, in the end, he knew;

A chance is all he gives,

And, the rest, is, up to you!

I’m rolling down a mountain,

Jagged stones taking turns to cut me up from all sides,

A whirl of thunder & pain, rocking my very core off its hinges like an earthquake with a magnitude of 9.9,

I am battered & bruised all over by this unceasing ordeal, with no end to it in sight,

O’ father, bring me relief for this is all too much for one man to abide!

The answer, he knew, in spite of his present tumult:

Son, this is life…

So, you must tuck your head in, and -somehow – survive!