have lived in malta..i think..not of this life..i speak..of some other life..i had as a bird..an eagle maybe...watching the sun smile at me with his majestic yellow reddish dignity...before he bid the waves goodbye for the evening, and i smiled back sitting on the cragged rock..the azure waves below, lush and blue, innocent and fresh, bid me to come, plunge within them to cool my tears..scared i was of being swallowed into a world, so not mine!!!

the sky was my world, the flight was my fantasy, i soared into the starsin the night wen all the birds slept cosy in their wings, i touched the velvet far beyond this world of the nite, in my life, in my dreams, i flew and i owned my pleasure...my pain too mixed in the heady feeling..

flying was everything, soaring , i owned everything, my life, my mistakes, my foolishness, my pain, and the sheer pleasure, the happiness of breaking free

the sky was a world that was almighty, forgiving, with the warmth of the sun, the cool tenderness of the moon, the whisperings of the stars as they twinkled, the waves that rumbled in agreement beneath, the rocks that stood mute but lively witness to the discussions, while little ants like us slept, comfortably inside our houses,

unaware of the dome of life and its temples, and dieties that came alive in the prayer of silence

everything was alive, alive, working like a family, doing their work, out of love, and under the commands of a mighty heart, that was our own, and nobody wished o go further to find out

our existence on fear and pheromones, continued their pitiable tread..

while the family prayed every night,...