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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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I'll be discovered when I'm dead

 I will be discovered

When I'm dead;

A dragon fly frozen in the amber of poetry.

I will be discovered

When I'm dead;

And they'll try to study me

But cutting me out of the amber,

And fail.

Because they'll think the amber and me

Are separate entities.

They'll think

They can study it separately.

But no.

They cut off petals to study flowers,

They cut off wicks to study candles,

And they cut off humans to study isolation.

And they never get the big picture.

They fail miserably.

And yet they try

Like trying to fill a flute with water,

Ruining the instrument

Without filling it.

And yet they keep trying,

Because what if there is no better way?

What if there is no way?

I’ll be discovered

When I’m dead.

And I hope they study me correctly.



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