A chest is drawn out,
Unveiling a stack of wooden splint ‘munitions’
One is singled out from the dozens,
And the chest drawn back to its cover
It snaps in as if to cock a rifle, click click
Now all systems are go,
The thick match head stares onto its igniter,
Fire is only a strike away
Action
The match head is hastily scrapped across the igniter,
“Chirrrk!”
A fireball erupts on the wooden splint;
Giggles erupt too
Fire the wild ravenous flower,
Devours the wood with astounding ease
Its bright lethal petal amuses the eye,
As it waltzes across the splint undeterred,
Leaving behind a charred block of debris
Wonder
Seemingly indestructible,
The razing flower decimates the splint
And now in a feat of glutton,
It reaches for the finger to devour
Sorry, too far too quick pal
A gust of air is blown onto the glutton
Behold the razing flower is subdued,
Its once formidable petal flickers out,
In its place smoke wobbles lazily into the air
As if the fire reincarnated into a ghost
But in a flash the ghost disappears into thin air
All the while,
A toddler’s been watching,
A blockbuster unfold in real time
The sudden emergence and vanishing of fire,
And its reincarnation into smoke;
An illusion of cause and effect
Nothing short of amusing
The toddler’s knack for adventure demands a replay
Reminder: keep matchboxes away from their reach
Time passes
The toddler grows older and wiser,
Now wary of the scorch of a matchstick,
The illusion of fire flickers out,
Only for a greater one to set in
The illusion of time and youth
Youthfulness,
Much like fading smoke,
Wobbles in time
Now you have it,
Now you don’t
Ujana ni moshi
Ujana ni moshi is a Swahili proverb, which translates to ‘Youthfulness is (but a fading) smoke.
Spend your youth wisely while it lasts. The Englishman callously cautions: Youth is wasted on the young, and wisdom spent on the old.
Nice one