AaBraa Ka DaabRaa

As the helpless pigeon rattled in the cage,
There was chaos in its heart, intent in its fate,
The ode to the past struggles came to age,
As a wrinkled hand’s glory waved through the speckles of light,
The applause and adulation came at a terrible cost,
Graves which he dug out showed him out, rotting inside and alive outside,
His remorse had a fantastical thread of plight,
The pigeon’s blood and his soul, both needed to be crushed,
A promise he made, to the earthy ambitions and the valiant skies,
A song he sung to the salty earth and serene waters,
To be killed and never to kill again, for the shadow in his heart heeded no cries,

To be clamouring about with infectious honesty, to pull out a trick which employed no malice,
And ages bit his neck when it was opportune, and he was smitten by the ambition,
One last trick he said to himself, what could it amount to be?
Is death not the fading light for every being, why not the dazzling light be?
He then prepared, and he then performed, a tight tie and a loose trick,
He put the winged creature into the cage, and tied it’s leg to the spoke,
All saw flames in him raging consistently, but none spoke,
The curtains rose, the laughter ensued, some tricks never clicked,
The last resort meant a small sacrifice but a large effect,

He rattled the cage, remembering his lungs filled with mud,
How he was dug up from his grave, and how death meant something sensible,
Nothing to be scared of, something to celebrate, for death was a great leveler,
The wrinkled hand plucked out the tired bird, and shook it to fame,
Onlookers saw a mundane age old trick, the magician would smash the cage,
He would perhaps even cover it with his hat, and smush it on in fits,
Really, they had seen it all, The pigeon tricks were for unassuming kids,
The magician, of course, brought something more to it..

He woke up and stared at the dark wooden roof above him,
A few inches away life lay with all the dreams, and a few minutes here and death would too,
His perfectly shaped nails screeched on the coarse roof, pricking his forefinger in the way,
A soft ruffle on his shirt reminded him off the light steps the pigeon took,
It was awake and flapping about his chest, in the harrowing space,
The more awake it was, the more near death was to him,
Coffins like cradles more often than not accommodated only one life,

The cage rattled, with a pungent life being drawn out,
A little thread tied to a tender paw was enough to clear the doubt,
Then came the trick, and the wand for drama and pomp,
He waved the wand out of forgotten tradition, and the pigeon flapped on his palm,
Tricks like life, more often than not accommodated only one classic getaway

As the cradle moved from under the ground, the magician bled his fingers,
His companion could fly, but neither here, beaked at his forehead,
And then something miraculous happened, something magical,
A thud of a shovel hit the roof above him, as clouds of dust erupted all around,

The one who dealt with trickery brought forth his last trick,
He stared at the Pigeon like he knew it, they knew each other,
He bore into it’s red hues, and lifeless beyond with nothing but questions,
Moments passed, and suddenly, the pigeon calmed up from being afraid

When they had picked him up from the dust, the young magician had aged,
Beyond any reason could fathom, beyond any doubt could defy,
Who went under as a young one, came out to be beaten to life,
The old man, as he was now, ranted of a pigeon inside, one no one ever found,
It stayed with me, it used to talk to me too, he claimed,
None made sense, magicians were good to watch, but not to hear after all,
And then he knew the reason for it, he had sucked out the pigeon’s life,
It had asked him to, and wished him for something else,
The pigeon sought a performance, it was the magician beyond the human carrying it

And the final trick came, after the staring, and after all the bearing,
The pigeons red eyes turned slowly to a shade of blue,
Strength and life seeped from one being to another, to a different hue,
The wrinkled hand then collapsed on the stage, as the pigeon for a moment stuck in air,
And as it dropped down along with its companion, it walked to the centre,
Audience gasped in horror, as the pigeon, walked like a human, using wings as hands,
It flew up a little to align with the mike, and a low groaning voice came about,

Abra Ka Dabra…


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