Tickles of Wind - Part 4

The thunder shook me from my thoughts.

I walked involuntarily to the window. Outside it poured rage, as if held by a restraint that demanded the patience of a millenia.

In the score of lightning that followed, I could see the wheels of the vehicles slowly tread the dreadful rising of water.

The first mark of progress, when evolution itself became a mundane fact for that caveman who ran from the flood as fast as his legs could carry.

Dripping sweat, his brain would tell him of ways to survive the terror growing under his legs, threatening to carry him to what would be a pathetic unremembered demise.

And what then, did he believe?

That the wheels would move on and on until he covered the face of earth?

Or was he terrified of life itself, the change, of faces he may forget, of love that would live beyond his desire?

Did he drown in that moment of hesitation?

Or did he live to gift the wheel to a worthy soul?

What, then was the result?

Did it wither in the rains?

Was it buried under a square hole then, giving away the irony? 

The rage of gods against progress? The test of patience which can only be bestowed by a mind of pure conniving evil, worthy of ungrateful, unwavering worship?

Did the wheel fail to turn his life, unlike the ones below willing to tread the flood, one inch at a time?

A worthy ode to his grave then, this patience against rage.

The thunder shook my thoughts, again.

Something gripped my heart. Uncontrollable sorrow, that arose from a place unnerving, beyond my knowledge of existence.

I feared for myself, I have to know.

I turned around and looked at her. She was seated atop the window sill, legs crossed, her little palms stretched.

In the wake of the raw lightning that lit her face, her eyes unblinking, looking below.

As if the droplets that fell out of her hand to the ground, kissed life.

I walked up to her and stretched my palm. Our fingers passed water, together.

I belonged then.

He was wrong, I belonged. Right here. With her.

She looked at me, brushed my tears with her puny hands, cupped my face and smiled.

And in that instant, 
with her eyes as witness, 
my wheels turned.