Solitary Confines

A winsome tale a song so common an everyday occurrence of grave losses never to be forgotten
In a very private arbor there stood a tree spectacular in stature sturdy and green with wonderful fruits begotten
A solitary figure was often seen reclining against its trunk as the sun trickled through its wide spreading branches
Her retreat her haven of peace her comfort her shade her sunshine her strength she culled the choicest fruit oblivious to envious glances
Often she sank deep in the vortex of hollow materialism spinning woes exaggerated and wants inconsequential
Caught in the web of possessions and obsessions attractions and distractions shrewd configurations and the superfluous inessential
Her heady race the gravitational attraction to materialistic trappings to power and pelf and rejection of the God given blessings
Little she treasured what was hers a flighty heart followed a mirage digressing from easy comfort to wallow in thoughts distressing

All the while a raging storm was brewing in the horizon with ominous portentous foreboding of death and destruction
An eerie darkness swelled blackening the sky to eclipse the sun and cordon off the heavens
The winds unleashed wrath savage and untamed and she helplessly watched the shroud swallowing her sunshine
The tempest roared and moaned a numbing coldness settled inside fervently she prayed and sought intervention divine
Forked lightning  ripped the caliginous sky with violent urgency to sear the earth and brighten the netherworld
The clap of thunder the brutal assault savage and unrelenting the strong did tremble as furies unfurled
A deafening crash the tree was uprooted and with heart rending lament it dashed to the ground
The blow was brutal and swift bewildered she stood shattered and defenseless the blow had pierced her life to impound

When the storm did recede the sun shone brightly but a  pall descended and her sunshine was clouded
Rooted she stood broken and wounded her spirit was splintered leaving her speechless and confounded
A mute spectator to the devastation so complete and fatal with the complexities of life so difficult to decipher
Fortunes are fleeting and whimsical for there is permanence in impermanence and misfortune the best testifier
Happy are those who dwell in joy and contentment life is vacillating and inconstant and no fort is impregnable
Bitter lessons she had learnt for adversity is a stern instructor and we all stand on shifting sands
She now felt lonely threatened and undefined drifting clueless to foreign climes and barren lands
But to be vanquished is not our call to rise steadfast and advance for barren lands are often reclaimed.

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By: Veena Umesh Sood
Images: Pinterest