DREAMING OF YESTERDAY TODAY

Picture Courtesy: www.crossdaily.com


Wielding clubs,
Batons and all that they could find,
They stormed the castle,
In the broad of day,
Clad in red,
Chanting war songs.


Enough
Was enough,
They had to go,
Calling them oppressors and tyrants,
Probably rightly so.


Their so-called oppressors
Sure did leave,
Not even bothering to put up a fight,
They bid them farewell,
They went away.


Amidst shouts of joy,
They drank to their fill
Happy and gay,
Freedom had finally come their way,
Throughout the night,
Till the morning that came,
They exuded unimaginable joy.


The next day,
They threw out all reminders of
Their masters of yesterday,
Gathered them all in a heap,
Set them ablaze,
One after the other they gazed upon the flames
Looking on as smoke rose to the heavens above,
In catharsis,
They found warmth in a new day,
Dreaming of a better tomorrow that very day.


They installed their very own on the throne,
Painted the castle walls in colours of their own,
Thinking they had wrestled destiny,
From within the very jaws of tyranny,
Thoughts firmly set on tomorrow’s day,
Surely,
Tomorrow looks much better today.


They barely noticed the days pass away,
Drunk on dreams of a better tomorrow
Yet to become today,
Till one morning,
When they realized their pants no longer fit,
They slowly slipped past their waistlines
Like willful four and five year olds,
Shirts hang loosely by their sides,
Like Hula-Hoops twirling,
Around rhythmically swaying hips.


They rushed to the barns,
Only to find them empty,
They had been empty all along,
They had been running on empty all along,
In a fit of rage,
They rushed to the castle gates,
Only to find them locked and bolted both ways,
They beat those gates,
Like those talking drums,
As though festivities were days away,
But not even a soul bothered take a peek from
Behind those massive gates.


In desperation they cried out to their king,
And like any other king,
He did appear on a balcony above,
In a cape with an “S” on his chest,
Drumstick and wine in both hands,
He bidst them wait,
Saying he had called for rain,
Asked them leave for tomorrow
Would be a better day,
Apparently,
They had rudely interrupted his favourite
Soap opera Acapulco Bay.


Till this very day,
They seem stuck in today,
Tomorrow never seems to walk their way,
If only they could have tomorrow for just a day,
Surely they would find that a better day,
So much for driving the tyrants and oppressors away,
Never did they imagine,
Their very own would be their tyrants today.


They’d give anything to bring back
The so-called tyrants of yesterday,
In their time,
At least food and drink sure did come this way,
Today,
Their glasses sit empty,
They’d give anything to have them at least half full.


They tend the fields to little avail,
The little that grows,
They send to the castle gates,
Surely the king must have his fill,
Little remains to go round after that,
If only they could go back to yesterday,
Never in their wildest dreams had they
Imagined this today.


How sad,
They dream of yesterday today,
Goodness knows the dreams they dare
Have of tomorrow today,
What they called tyranny yesterday
They dream of having today,
So much for a better today,
They’d give anything today,
If only they could have yesterday today.