During the height of celebrations
A storm was gathering unseen,
Hiding bolts of destruction.
But in the tiny eyes of innocence
Glittered the joy in concealment.
The suffering never showed up
In the gradual process of erosion.
A mother's voice was suppressed,
Ears turned deaf to the distant thunder
For all appeared normal even to
The trained eyes of the father.
Then there was a momentary pause
That lasted a thousand years.
Marred by a long blank stare
With a greyish overcast up above
And not a single breath taken...
At that moment, life became still.
Sweat broke across the brow,
Shivers ran down the spine.
From the dark corners of clouds
Appeared a bolt of lightning
Stuck in the eye of the storm.
Then panic broke out of the bottle,
"To the child gifted by God Himself?"
Cried the mother in sheer helplessness.
The tears flowed into an indifferent world.
Standing on the edge of a precipice,
A pensive stare fixed below revealed:
The first words were long gone,
The song that pleased was forgotten,
All the child plays were aborted.
The natural growth was forced to cease.
It all happened just like the saying goes:
The eyes didn't see what the mind didn't know.
In no time a drawbridge was erected
Along with a watchtower to guard against
The stigma carried by nearby whispers -
Devoid of wisdom yet heavy with malice.
The course was charted to prevent lightning
And the potions began their work,
Repairing the damage -or so it was thought!
But it was plagued by restless nights
And never-before-seen behavioral chaos!
These sufferings intensified every day
Ruining the very foundations of daily life.
But this monster was to be tamed at any cost.
Witnessing the clockwork stings
Was no easier than seeing him
Endure them without a cry of pain.
Then the drastic shift in perception:
From a playful child to a captive of illness
Tormented by unpredictable jerks
Deepened the crater of agony.
Prayers poured in from everywhere,
But he didn't heal as time flew by.
"You should have come much earlier!"
Those words pushed hope into the pit of despair.
Every mistaken word or unintended act
Tainted the tapestry with superstition.
There was no way to silence a thought
That had already wandered beyond reason.
But the trust in Him never faltered.
Patience and courage stood their ground
As guardians of the last vestige of hope.
When the magic potion finally arrived,
Lightning vanished, thunder retreated,
The storm passed and cleared the way
As the white clouds emerged with an aura,
Gliding through the morning rays
Against the canvas of the bright blue sky.
The child maneuvered his toy car like a pro,
The lost smile returned when that song was played,
The liveliness ascended to reclaim its throne.
Then hope blossomed into full confidence:
In time, he will bloom into himself again
Erasing this episode of absolute horror.
In time...
