Dispatches from the wilds of Proseambique – Happy New Year

“Is that the best you can do?!” we seem to cry, scornfully, as we hurtle our home-made thunderbolts heavenwards. “Drop your colourless lightning!” we laugh, “Behold our blooming roses of fire!”

A violent symphony explodes above our heads, as though we sought to obliterate the etherial sky-palaces of the gods; as we did the clouds before them.

Half bemused by our impudence, Zeus, Thor and Set look down upon us, smirking maliciously as they weave the threads of our year to come; knotting it with miseries and divine retribution.

In the streets, we sing and dance our hubris into the dawn.

Published in: on December 31, 2009 at 11:59 pm  Leave a Comment  

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