Summer Heat

No movement on the streets, none in the mind,
bored exhalations and sweaty palms with no work,
production lines of every day’s metrics wallowing
with bodies of beehive workers collapsed in distances,
not a sight nor a sign nor a sound nor a shuffle, all just rest
waiting for some respite in the sweltering summer heat.

Lull in the halls of thought, all white in a blown-out canvas,
gowns all billowing in the fields of imagination, while fans
on the ceilings fail in their operation, purposeless they
hang their heads in shame and give in to the helplessness
of the everlasting, never-ending, ever-growing, and raucous,
brazen radiating summer heat to every entity in being.

Rescue missions in the mind of many, of only the self,
Of only a break from this incessant afternoon so bleak,
but the evening brings with itself an envelope that
further encompasses the woollen blanket on a hot
summer night, suffocating the music of breath, sucking
consciousness out of a wishful dream; there’s no escape
there’s no reprieve, there’s no viability of a smile, only
grimacing faces and vengeful hearts destined for the gates
of Hell where even eternity may seem a solution.

But the heralder of dismay is followed closely by the dulcet
tunes of Hope, that faint flicker of the flame, that movement
of the leaves, that hint of a brush against the cheek, like an
unexpected lover in the dead of night, welcome with partially
open eyes and the fatigued ecstasy of an answered prayer;
swaying with the growing breeze, the trees play the melody,
entrance theme of a royal messenger, the clear sky sees a guest
and thin clouds bequeath to troubled souls a hope
for the next day, and as the rain begins to drizzle, there stirs a
gentle lunatic inside, the one that keeps us alive and kicking,
the one that bears all that is true of this world, yet in this
unmoving summer heat retains the mirth to survive this world.