The Bottled Letter

Stretching out on the golden diminutive granules,
Opening the eyes resisting the sun's blazing beam,
Barefoot and toes dancing through the cold breeze,
Holding a 'bottled letter' on the right hand; relaxing.

Dozing then waking from a toddler's joyous laugh,
Sitting up still grasping the poorly shaped letter,
Finding it rather attractive but it spoke of tomorrow,
Days of reconciliation from the bitter yesterday.

The author named "I"; the date not far from today,
From an indefinite location but a language I speak,
Written from right-to-left starting with اللهم لك الحمد,
Saddened by the beauty of tears, yet, optimistic.

"I" spoke of the ancestral origins of the humans,
Of the morals and values shared by the individuals,
Of the pin-pointed differences referred by organs,
And of the true path sought for a better tomorrow.

There the calligraphy ended before a tiny full-stop,
Folding the 'bottled letter' in halves and once again,
This time round holding it on the left upper limb,
And to my astonishment I laid on my back; relaxing.

Tuesday, 31st of August 2010