The class burst in laughter with the instructor’s assertion everyone has their version of three minutes of madness daily. He went on to explain how he would spend some of those early morning moments making faces and stretching his ears before the bathroom mirror.
Once, when caught red-handed by his wife he explained he could not believe his ears for he had heard a voice tell him the apocalypse would be striking later that afternoon! The heated discussion dominated the rest of our week as we began to curiously meddle in each other’s details!
“It doesn’t matter what your three minutes are made of,” he emphasized.“Whether voting for your daily favorite song, squirrel or burger, just make it count for it takes some energy from you! It’s an investment, whether you realize it or not. It’s where your eyes ought to be: On the real deal, not the short-lived often detracting trivialities of the mock.”
The brilliantly lit full-capacity auditorium was over saturated with an air of elation as the melodious voices flowed before the keenly watching judges in the continental grand finale. It was the last presentation of the day. This own composition piece was a profound moving re-tell of history, a sobering description of critical lessons for the defining present capped with a compelling charge for an inviting future.
They sung of a past so difficult; clouded with a confusion and hopelessness so deep. They told of a long and winding road, a promise so elusive and a quest mired with severe complexities and impediments. The airwaves were filled with dense vivid heart wrenching images of bleeding hearts wounded by treachery, injustice and factions from within and without as the spell-binding master-piece transmitted a soul piercing conviction on all those following the live televised event.
All was still as they made their third consecutive modulation in an awe-inspiring fashion. The spotlight shone lustrously on the youthful trio holding microphones. They stepped forward with the rest of the group humming harmoniously from behind as the three siblings swerved after each other in mesmerizing powerfully pitched musical rounds of unparalleled artistic display. They had identical birthmarks on their right cheeks.
They sung of great potentials. It was a direct challenge to properly interpret the signs of the all significant moment in-order to draw the boundless opportunities that could forever transform the regional destiny. They dazzlingly shone the restorative light of healing, rebuilding and values. Permeating through the backdrop of the angelic melody was the undeniable rumble for change.
Tears flowed freely all across the amphitheater as the choir took hostage everyone listening. The song rose to a climax as their charge of personal responsibility broke forth loud and clear. Many firmly held on the edges of their seats. Nervous glances flashed across the auditorium.
“Like the old king archer through the East window the moment is here,
Relentlessly and unsparingly deploying every arrow at disposal the call,
Spectator and mediocre have no residence in the dawn nor the season,
Everyone with their quiver to strike the ground not once, twice or thrice,
Until the day is decisively done and oppression is denied breeding ground.”
Went the incredibly emotional chorus.
It was a charge to a journey that was much inward as was external and collective. The vivid message was leaving no gray areas. Whether in the past, present or future, personal responsibility was inevitable for one and all. Each would have their chance to make their quiver count for or against the continental dream. It marked a deep soul-searching moment for all listening.
The auditorium went on a rapturous applause long before the performance was over. It caught everyone by surprise when the judges led everyone else in a prolonged standing ovation amid the overwhelming cheers as the Black Diamonds Choir made a gracious exit from stage after briefly acknowledging the crowd.
No one could deny it was the song for the season. It had been a long journey composing and arranging it, the demands on all involved huge. The choir members had spent long grueling hours in rehearsals, initially hampered by false starts and blurred by numerous bogus initiatives. Today was the ultimate culmination:A three-minute stint on stage!
For the majority, including some in the choir, it was a wonder how they had gotten here! What many were so skeptical of was finally within reach, freely resonating within the hearts of many, even those who only had wind of it. An amazing demonstration of vision, discipline and undivided commitment that was confounding critics and pessimists alike in this defining moment.
It was all systems go for the song of the season. There was no telling how long it would top the charts. No telling how long it would dominate the headlines. Time, destiny and the divine converged in purpose.
There was a flurry of high-fives behind the stage as the jubilant choir members marveled in glory amid a sustained stream of congratulatory messages. A moment made in heaven!
“Three minutes folks! Three minutes! That’s all you have on stage. Take that with you wherever you go from here. Endure the countdown. Make the moment count for the bigger picture!” Exclaimed a radiant ecstatic choir master. His feet were like fine brass, as if refined in a furnace.
The traffic snarl up was reminiscent a scene from a dungeon. The gridlock was horrific as everything came to an absolute standstill. Several of the overlapping motorists were stuck in the muddy portions outside the road while others honked impatiently. Some were raging with clenched fists as the frustration took its toll.Frustration marked the faces of all those who had been unsuccessfully attempting to get the traffic flow back on track.
Blaring music could be heard as the impasse stretching hundreds of kilometers through the monumental continental road threatened to cripple the region. There were people in need of medical attention, with many dehydrated hungry faces staring blankly. Cries of distressed children could be heard from afar. Some of the vehicles had developed mechanical hitches while others had run out of gas, compounding the situation further.
Caught at the centre of it all was a long magnificent bus adorned in colorful shades of royal colors,with full headlights. The powerful bellow of its engine gradually submerging the raging mayhem. On its right side were the distinct silver inscriptions: “In The Order of Alpha The Majestic!”
The countenance of the one behind the wheel was like the sun shining in its strength. His eyes like a blazing fire. His head and hair were like wool, as white as snow. An inexpressible glow covered the pregnant sky above. It was like the glory one riding on the clouds. The doors of the bus opened and the peculiar occupants began disembarking in a progressive procession.
They knew exactly what to do. Clad in full combat armor and quivers strapped on their backs they blazed forward with great authority as they took their scheduled positions in the snarl-up. Everything went on a momentary hush as a flicker of hope lit the horizon in a distinct silver lining.
There was a brief stir during the procession as three middle-aged men disembarked. They struck a chord in the eyes of the curious onlookers. They too made their way to their positions, the discrete identical birthmarks on their right cheeks eliciting some electrifying memories some twelve years ago!
©The Blazing Trail 2012
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