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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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Life is

 Life is

A Van Gogh painting

In which many yellow dots make a corn field,

A Shakespearean drama

Best enjoyed when you don’t understand it,

A Rodin sculpture

That makes you think.

Life is

An old car 

Kept running to show wealth,

Mist on hills 

blinding no one as no one goes there,

A bottle of coke

That has lost its cap.

Life is

A prologue to death

Written in some cryptic language

No one can decipher.

Life is dead,

Life is broken,

Life is impossible to understand.


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