Bujito in the symphony

Bujito Heridontus stood in the orchard looking at the knotted and gnarled trees as the moonlight illuminated the landscape in front of him. The fog rolling in was more like mist, a sort of thicker moister than fog had usually been. Bujito wondered where the fog was coming from because it was like a low hanging cloud rather than fog that rose like steam. It moved in from the north as the winds shifted to sift through each other, heading south from our summer to theirs like the fowl he watched in flight transitioning to stay with the warmth and as the cold southern winter air collided with the northern summer air Bujito was at that meeting point watching the fog take form out of nowhere to engulf the entire orchard in the morning moonlight before the light crested the horizon. He could hear the who of the owl sounding through the night in its nocturne beckoning to the change of day one hour before sunrise. Bujito had been sole witness to instance like these strange occurrences so often.

Bujito had gotten mad at his racetrack as a child. It is because it was difficult. He realized that now. He had taken the time to learn the toy as it was. His car would fly off the track at times. He hadn't understood at first to drive it like an actual race car, slowing around the turns so the car wouldn't lose control and crash. It took patience and then to master it took concentration but it didn't carry a level of importance with it for him at that time.

The momentum of destructive change that rolled in as imperceptible as the southern air to collide with the northern air was even considered or given attention by anyone other than Bujito. No one understood the implications or the terrible resounding effects. No one else had understood the inherited responsibility they were burdened with because they only wanted the ease and enjoyment. When he watched the greeks sell out to an alarming Cuban extreme with no consideration to the historical destruction being unleashed it was a true Greek tragedy. History on repeat from ancient time here in the far future. He could do nothing this time, exactly like Noah, like so many lessons of history that no one else ever paid any attention. Just the air colliding, he could do nothing but watch.

A mouse squeaked and Bujito saw it run through the moonlight between the trees. He heard the owl's wings and turned in time to see the owl descend and snatch the mouse as the mouse shrieked. That made him think of the race track he had gotten as a gift when he was a child. The cloud of peoples minds should have been contained, was containable but broke loose from all sense. Bujito watched and raced the clock but couldn't halt what they had unleashed. He could do nothing in time other than watch the disrespect. She lit a match, here, with her casual attitude like it meant nothing and didn't matter but she had no idea about its deeper meaning. At times he couldn't tell if they were doing it intentionally but the disregard was the intentional disrespect and Bujito knew it was meant entirely for him, utter disrespect of what they believed was only him. It reminded Bujito, not of the great philospher, Aristotle, but Onassis which meant nothing to them as this monumental shift they didn't take the time to understand was unleashed as simple as the air moves. But this was air we could control and needed to be contained. The damnation for Bujito was the wicked effects of that knowledge whipping him and his inability to outrace those hands of time.

She lit the match here and the fires burned on the other side of the country out of control in a massive wildfire of biblical proportions explained in the Bible, handed to Bujito as the Herculean duty that only he knew. He waited for the moonlight to turn into daylight as he watched the barn owl retreat out of the orchard back to wherever the owl would nest through the day. Bujito still had many years ahead and all the memory of how nonchalantly terrible and casually destructive human beings truly are. The second Pandora, the second he was Sisyphused, the second he was Persiused, he was the white rabbit.