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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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The dead tree lives on

 A tree with half eaten leaves;

How irregular,

How different,

Yet how beautiful.

It grabs attention

Against all godly perfection;

Perfect trees with perfect leaves and perfect wood.

But this tree

About to have it's leaves eaten completely,

About to die without leaves

Looks beautiful;

Even beautiful after it dies.

The dead tree will live on.

Leaf-less

Against the rising sun,

Cutting more into the sun

And yet letting more light through;

With more birds sitting on its branches

Looking for prey.

The dead tree will live on.

Leaf-less

Against the rising moon,

Cutting more into the moon

And yet letting more light through;

With more bats taking off from its branches

Looking for prey.

The dead tree will live on

Through darkness and day.


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