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I went close, stepped into cobweb-clothed hall. Thick dust, thick enough to spark an asthmatic crisis rose from ground as I walk on it like it was some continental rug. Everything is in perfect shape. (The carved wooden school crest sitting at upper part of front wall, polished platform, which has aged with dust from being abandoned. Every thing seemed perfect but with age.
In abandoned hall, right in its center, I closed my eyes and it all came back. I smelled it like it was yesterday. It was fresh as dew on grass before morning sun. The memories flooded back as I heard students chorused hymns in unison from songs of praise pocket book, I could hear school chaplain: preaching a motivational sermon to boys. I heard school song as it rose like crashing of waves against a ship. I opened my eyes; felt some drops sank into my cotton blue shirt, chilling my body. I dried my tears and walked out.
I had to leave past behind me. I wasn’t going to stand there like that war veteran polishing a medal of honor he received some forty years ago. I would never stand one more minute there like that man who thinks, if he were not bankrupt fifteen years ago, he would be rich now. I wasn’t going to let tears down my cheeks like that lady who lost her job as a secretary because she wasn’t computer literate and all she could do was complain, “I could type six million words in one minute.” I have to let go of past and move on.
I’m not just talking about me, that war veteran or that secretary (that lady rather, she lost her job.) I’m talking to you who sit there in self-pity because you just lost your coolest job. Don’t sit there bemoaning your fate, explaining to your friends what went wrong. You don’t have to tell your sisters or brothers how bad it is and expect someone to come to hug you and say, “sorry, everything will be alright.” Come on wake up. Whatever happened seconds ago is already history. The last minute before you start reading this is history.
Pick up yourself, dry your tears like I did, raise your head and shoulders and do what? MOVE ON!
There is more in future. Plunge into it. And you will realise that all past glory and failures are nothing but a page in your history.
Coming soon, “Haiku with love” An inspiring poetry collection by A.Z. Alfred. To be published by Author House, USA. for his works and free inspirational helps, goto: http//:writesight.com/blackzeal101 mailto: firstname.lastname@example.org
A.Z. Alfred is a writer and a motivational speaker whose greatest pleasure is observing the world through a window while listening to inspirational songs.