no miracle.

inside his mind,
across the serene lake,
on top of a hill
beside the endless green fields,
there stood a hall amidst the fog.

a hall lit by a huge chandelier the size of a thousand yellow tennis balls bound together hung at a height where one can only see but not touch, yet its radiating soft glow shoots out millions of gentle rays that penetrates everything, illuminating every corner of the sophisticated rennaissance-era themed hall.
Inside this acoustic performance hall, the black grand-piano is playing an arpeggiac melody of chords, the black and white keys harmoniously married to an endless waltz of orchetral background instruments, the loop seemed to be seamless. listening to it felt like sliding down a spiral slide that sees no end.the metronome inside of his head kept ticking to the repeating rhythm...

he feels an itch, a sting, followed by a minor burning sensation at the back of his neck, it distracts him as he reaches to feel for the wound. "an ant" he says , holding up the army ant pinched between his fingers, he blinks to discover that he had come out of the trance he put himself in, the hall had vanished, the music had stopped ,wat is left, is him lying alone on the parkbench beside the lake, 2 o'clock in the morning and being very awake. he blinked his eyes like a cartoon character with three frownlines on the forehead.

" here's a free ride to heaven, thanks for interrupting " with a twitch of his fingers, he sends the ant airborne. and tries very hard to see where exactly he had shot the ant.

"heaven" he thought. is just another nameholder for a place people invented, so that they would feel their deceased loved ones are in the great care of god. it has also become a term where people call their destiny, the reason they come to exist in this life, whether it is called a suffering or a blessing. But he had not always believed in the theory of a fixed destiny, neither does it matter at all to him whether he was going to end up in heaven with the gods, or stay on earth to suffer in the circle of endless re-incarnation caused by his bad karma--if any at all. Or simply sent to hell ,where he'd like to pat the three headed dog of hades he imagined to have the body of a greatdane and head of a bloodhound, a rottweiler and a chihuahua it would look funny altogether with the furry little tail of a chinese crested dog.

"Another interruption, a rare scene", he says, with a smile, the silhouette of a bird flying late at night crosses his vision, he combs with his finger the top of his head and feels for his newly shaven mini-mohawk, something he did during the afternoon to cure his sewered-emotions from work today. his head was just too occupied with something else. he drifts.

to him, religion is a template, much like a happy-meal set or a pasta set lunch. some people subscribe to a certain religion, to find a spiritual shelter for the soul, some, to discover the answer to their very existence.. but to him, he feels that there is no need to surrender himself, to submit himself so fully, to anything else but himself and his emotions except if need be, nobody else other than the persons that granted his existence--his parents. he lives by a set of conduct he developed from lessons he learned, things he observed while travelling along the path of life. he thinks that it's the journey that matters, not the destiny.

he always organises his thoughts, its the only thing he cant leave in a mess, it's like hitting the defragmentation button on your computer, or sorting out books by category in the library, he sorts out the fragments of his thoughts to compile, every now and then, a newer version of his own philosophy, adapted from the lessons he learnt. because he sided no particular religion, he had to .being solo, he had to be prepared to stand firm for his beliefs, and so he had to always align his thoughts with his actions so that it wouldnt clash and make him look weak and stupid not having a religion.

but tonite, he didnt come out for star gazing in the middle of the night. he hadnt intended to come all the way out here to lay under the stars to de-frag his thoughts. he couldnt sleep and something was occupying his mind and making his heart race a thousand times faster than it should. he turned his body sideways and slowly lay himself onto the short carpet of grass. " atleast the grass is not as cold-hearted" he feels, as curtains of cool -humid breeze dews his forehead and nose tip, he imagines how warm and cozy it must be if he had someone in his arms right now.

laying on the dry carpet of fuzzy-feeling grass, looking up into the dark purple sheet of velvet sky spread across the horizon, the stars stuck themselves onto it -- like sequines on a grand wedding-dinner gown in an arabian night . Where constellations he couldnt name stared back, speckles of light-dots seemed to blink in distant , he cant help thinking about the theory of big-bang opposing the creation of life by god, yet he cannot deny that the creation of earth itself is such a marvel, that people prefer to give the credit to an icon of higher power rather than to regard our existence as purely accidental. It gave him a thought. a thought , he needed to take a deep breath to even dare start to think about. a thought that tells him it's okay to give credit to god for all the beautiful things in the world. a thought that might atleast, ease down his towering pulse rate, his racing mind, and sleepless nite,

he thought for a second, and he thought to himself:" maybe ,for once, i should believe in god. maybe then, he will give me, one of his loveliest daughter's heart." he takes a deep breath and continues" she's just what i want."


--the end.