why, someone asked,

from nowhere specifically

more like a thought than a question

more a river taken as a landmark rather than a scenic allure of movement

the place resounded with the one word and the wind distributed it further on, on every direction

the acacias heard and mused silently

then shuddered and rustled in vexation

the tenacious rocky path leading to the ponds

checked the history on its etched body

maybe somehow someone or something had left a trail

an indication in all its layered rocks

or even some inscription on the earth or the pond waters reflecting the ever-mighty bridge and the lingering sky

I must say, myself was a bit taken aback, not to say offended

by the offhanded manner in which The word was just hurled over in the space, by its originator

at nothing or nobody in particular

It would have been greatly preferable, if The word had been uttered explicitly to the one it was intended for

maybe if it would have been whispered in the ear

with a specific channeled discourse

by manner of sheer prudence, not to say politeness, it would have contained specific meaning, opening to the one or other possibilities of continuity

But a torrent of self reflection instilled itself

it came out of the blue, it was meditated upon then it made much noise, but

after a while, it calmed down on the outskirts

the inside was catapulting all kinds of becauses

the bamboo screeched sometimes in seeming agony of its own because

all sorts of pretexts were being planned to all sorts of whys

it was taken and seen from all angle

in differing light of differing perspective and perception of time, space and of course personal implications.

And more so often the why of one was intermingled with the why of another and it was becoming an entangled and complicated situation


And the air, pregnant with anticipation held its breath...