That Problem

By: A. Randi

Morning rippling in a stuffy lecture hall. The voice still hoarse lecturer. Stinging ears. My brain could no longer be tasted. Clogged. Concentration oscillated abysmally. Whether, which will be stranded. Saturated. Lazy. Long. The fibers of the nerves continue to tighten. The faces are again presented here. Only one, the look on his face that could tear apart the stupa which I presume is still firmly in my heart. Intercept my meditation. Melt the ice at the base last month. 

Suminten. The figure of a village girl who extraordinary beauty, for me. Tore my day with longing. Skinning my loneliness. Evicting my intention to isolate the heart. Without realizing it, I'm lying. Then, everything was beautiful. Flowery. Fragrant. Until, that issue was published. Religion. Well, it all comes down to differences in beliefs. He seems to just show up and with arms akimbo. Then everything changed. Hence. Withered. Haggard. Plated confusion. Embraced doubt. Floating. 

At the top of my memory still hear your greeting, at that time.

"Dear, is it still will you defend that belief when fate beheaded?" 

What should I said again? What should I try again? So how?Everything just remains a question. Without an answer. Includes episodes continued our stories. In the wildness and chaos of mind. Suddenly, the next problem appears .... 

"Hendri, do number three in front of!"

Note:
Stupa = part of Hiindu or Budha's Temple like a pacifier