A lone gunman sitting on the far edge of the hill, neither does he move nor he breathes;
For he concentrates on hitting the reindeer's skull, quickly lest the beast moves;
The sun shines behind him, Making him a speck of dust in this infinite universe;
But it his him, Him that controls the bullet which will say if it is the beast's fate to remain anymore in this Universe;
Judging the distance and not the consequences the bullet tears apart the beast;
For tonight the Hunter's family will have a mighty feast;
The only proof of the beast's existence is the echo... the echo ... the echo...
The Gunshot Echo...
Life starts on a plane surrounded by hills; the plane feeds us and hill protect us wat not;
There is plenty of things to fill; being innocent in the eyes of age we do wat not;
We play, we fight; we cry; we discover; we fear; but no.. no..
we do not hear the echo... the echo.... the echo...
As age corrodes us, it does too to the hills around us;
For those hills which once had stood impenetrable and pround of us;
Now they bend and we get a glimpse , only a glimpse , of something on the other side;
We start to think,"What must be there on the other side";
We still play but differently, we still fight but differently, we still cry but differently;but no...no...
we still have not heard the echo... the echo...... the echo....
We are the beasts that roam around the plain; moving with time ,teasing time and trying to understand time;
In our journeys we meet other beasts some friendly some not, who join the herd time to time;
Moving together but differently, Playing but differently, Fighting but differently, but no.. no...
We ignore the echo.. the echo... the echo...... ;
We finally understand why the hills are getting shorter, but it is now too late;
The hills are passing their understanding, their love, their strength and finally their will to live on to us before it is too late(for them);
We are desperate to make them proud, to tell them that the dreams that they have dreamt for us have turned into reality;
But we realize with a shock that the view beyond them hill IS REALITY;
It is a vast plane not unlike the one where we have grown up;
Roaming around it makes us happy , we see new things but differently, we feel new things but differently, but...
We realize with a shock very profound ;
That there are not any hills to be found;
We do realize as we look back that the herd has been thinned out;
With surprise we see those we did not expect standing by our side, while those whom we had considered forever have chosen OUT!!!
Now and then a lone gunman appears and tries his luck;
But we face his bullets through mud and muck;
Not always does this thing hold , this luck;
For now and then we miss our old friend Chuck;
We now work, we now try to survive;
For things have become different and the old days will never revive;
We now hear that echo.. that echo... that echo...
Which gives us proof that yes someone has hurt our friend,
May it be a girl with her flashing eyelashes;
Giving promises of staying with us till we turn into ashes;
May it be a friend , who because of jealousy or hate;
Goes out of our life without so much as a resonate;
May it be us who due to some stupid reason have indeed done some bad;
Which has forced our friend to leave us alone and sad;
We may never know that because there comes a time;
When the bullet hurls through the air with distance upon time;
And all that reamins of us...
Is the echo... the echo.... the echo....
THE GUNSHOT ECHO
Iman Sadhu
9/1/2012
12:08 am
By Iman Sadhu
