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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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A better morning

 A cup of tea with a floating white flower,

Orange light through trees,

Dew on twigs.

Could there be a better morning than this?

Walking through the forest alone,

Yet not feeling lonely.

Sitting in a cabin alone,

Yet not feeling suicidal.

I hear the raven on a high branch

And I laugh.

We are beggars asking for too much

Than what we need.

Isn’t this,

A forest, a cabin, a cup of tea

Enough?

Isn’t this all we need to not feel lonely.

We don’t need people

To make us happy.

They have their own crap

To not be happy about.

All we need is this beauty,

This belonging,

A continuous conversation without words,

Without awkwardness,

Without fear.

A cup of tea with a floating white flower,

Orange light through trees,

Dew on twigs.

Could there be a better morning than this

Ever?


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