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you know about the voices that speaks in your head?i listen to them somtimes. most of the times. sometimes they tell me good things. sometimes they make me wish for bad things. |
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about this blog
it's basically the inside of sakinah's brain.but mercifully edited, censored, and anaesthesised with a heavy dose of prozac. tagboard
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mount time
As one takes a closer look outside the window, one sees past the block after block of houses, or the adjacent window of the neighbour back doors. An image conjured from the past slowly takes shape as it overlaps the dreary grey concrete. It is hazy at first, and practically transparent. But it's there.Mountains of sand rose from the ground that changes along with the wind and time, only to be replaced by hardy shrubs poking out shyly to greet the sun. That harsh eye of the sky. Soon trees would grow, and the rain will bring ponds that accumulate to lakes, with river veins connecting it. Together they toil to bring life around them; the trees that feed from the waters, and the waters that swirl at the roots. Soon, the environment progressed to a state where it entices both men and animal to further advance the ecosystem. Firstly misshapen sanctuaries appear to take form in crude wooden huts with even simpler poles of stick shoved into the ground to make way as a cage for the cattle. When natural disasters or man-made wars arrive they are forced to adapt, and the earth was torn apart in search of metal. That hard, adamantine natural resource which man will mould the world with. Along the way man also found yellow metal. Its' glimmer was reflected in mans' eyes, and they greedily took it along with them. And in the continuing, relentless face of modernisation; skyscrapers rose up to meet the sun. That harsh eye of the sky, now challenged. The smog from factories too, creep into brick houses which are sanctuaries in the new day. From the same dirty window I look out, and I see past the buildings that cover the view, or the throngs of crowds moving like giant colonies of ants. I look past the current day, and I see the ever-rising mountain of sand that threatens to swallow all. That is the image of the future. A barren wasteland brought by man's own attempt of surviving. Soon the moutain of sand will be replaced by shrubbery, trees, and lakes. And what was replaced by the sands will come with the cycle of civilisation, glory, destruction, and rebirth. Labels: rants |