In my last piece of writing that got the privilege to be released to the world, I talked about the emptiness of the world and more so the emptiness those who live in it. Most of the readers failed to comprehend it, probably due to their own emptiness, I do hereby give them a further chance of redemption.
Kindly let me talk about love today. If this is in order then walk with me to the little village that is sandwiched in a rich country, beautiful in its own right. My eyes looked right, left, South and North and what I saw was the beautiful tea plantations that graced this small sleeping village. I was lost for some time now, in deep thoughts; I still could not come to term with the reality of the day. A young boy stood next to a tall man of light complexion (Actually leaned holding onto his legs). He had tried enough to prove that he was a man. Truly, truly this was true love. What else would I call it? I have known no true love, I saw this and recognized it to be. Who am I to dispute it? Tears, probably streaming tears welled up in his eyes, threatened to form a small stream down his face. The son was there clinging firmly unto him, all stared at the freshly filled grave. There he was, saying goodbye to this pretty young lady whom she loved. He performed several signs of the cross, I do presume that he was praying for her soul.
Probably he might also have prayed that no more tears flowed down his cheeks. I did one sign of the cross, paid tribute to the late beauty, prayed that the heavenly Angels might receive her soul and walked away from the grave, from father and son to a coffee tree, far away from the grave.
I closed my eyes, let the thoughts wander to wherever they will. Let my thoughts blow with the winds, probably to the deserts, the deserts of love. I mentioned it earlier that I knew no love and hence the mind knew no highlands of love but deserts… the Sahara and Kalahari, all deserts of love.
Eventually, the journey of the wandering thoughts made a stop, a stop somewhere…. not at a bus stop but the ‘famous thought stop’ in the mighty Nairobi city. To be more precise along the well known Koinange street and the little-known Luthuli… The little ‘cities’ within the City where the murder of true love is found; love which is completely out of place from which I intended to talk about.
I hereby beg to stop, not because am empty but because I feel that I might not draw a clear distinction line… I am just as empty as you are.