Assay
An uprooted tree lies ebbing in the street.The one who pledged everyone with a refugeis herself in exigent need. People come, see the fallen one. Not a soul seems to be concerned.Zero, zilch, nada, none. They don't rememberthose cloistered, sizzling infernos of Junethose solitary, shivering nights of witchy new moons and those sodden, sultry volleys of pouring monsoons when they, like sprayed bedbugs, ran helter-skelterwith the beast of disarray at their sorry heels -snarling callously at all their jet-set culture,structure and order and when all and sundry went slapdash…haphazard that stalwart of timbergave them reassuring shelter. …no fine print, no strings… ❉ Today, when in the aftermath of storm and rainher generous framework lays mortally drainedthere is no one who would even stopto look for a whilelet alone bestow a precious dropof life. ❉ In this progressive society –dynamic, forward-looking, revolutionary – each enterprising personalityis interred beneath umpteen layers of conceitand on the assay of fulfilmentestimates the value of the being. © Chandra S. 1984