On the eve of a new dawn, fireworks start to fill the sky with such brightness that shuns daylight to shame.
The world awakens to ‘Year Zero’, a new era with no culture, no song, no community, no people, no books, no intelligence to appreciate such creations even if they exist.
Just you, the lights and work.
The field needs towing for there are no food to feast. The weeds need pulling for the paddy struggles to survive.
Maybe agriculture is only possible with more than 2 pairs of hands and feet.
Perhaps it’s time to innovate and release the cattle and livestock to the wild,
for tending a country alone is hard enough, why shoulder the burden of the dead
farmers and fishermen?
The courtroom is lonely, for gone are the days when statesmen gather to sing praises of the radical schemes for fear of having their heads cut off.
There are no debates or disagreements, they were none back then and never will forever.
For the first time, you pick up a broom and dustpan, and started sweeping the confetti on the cold marble floor.
The party is over, back to work on governing the people that no longer exist in this realm, but in another that's probably better and richer.
Could that be fair, that they get to
live the lives of saints and angels while I’m here suffering, all by myself?
That couldn’t be right.
You grab a noose lying around and hang it on the entrance post which bears a gold plate, your name etched elegantly by a dead craftsman.
Time to do what is right, for the people, and for my country.