Sitting on the top of the little hill in the middle of my cornfield, I am watching unrealized slow vanishing of the sun, which is waving her farewell hand to me. The wind, breezing on my tanned face, recalls me the fretful and fruitful days of my life. The buzz coming from dried stems of cut plants is the song of my old age, wrinkled skin, snuggled eyes and shaky hands. The joy of childhood, the merriment of my springtime, the honor of my middle age, all are staging on my memory scene whispering the time of migration. What a mysterious world! You come involuntarily then should leave unwittingly.
“Today” is going to join to the million pages of the history. I am an abridged chapter of this book. Will there be anyone to read the chapter of mine? I am not so sure! For, I know many who have been expunged from memories.
Raising my head, I witnessed a wan face of the sun. It is the time for disappearing and the moment of departure.
Oh! Sun, if I had comprehended these poignant seconds, I would have changed my thoughts, would have actuated my love to you, would have been more frank with you, in one word, I would have embraced the beams of your light.
Oh! Sun, I confess that I belittled your shine. Engrossed with the nominal mundane flamboyances, I did flagrant disregard to your presence. You were kind, warm and blessing; however, the fabricated warmth of artificial wood burning stove in my soil room amused me in whole life.
Alas! There is no promise to come back again…Even if you come; there is no promise to an octogenarian to get up tomorrow to be melted in your love. It is the time to migrate to the land of everlasting. You know, I am reading the last few lines of my chapter…
