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…
I see streets
Flashing in dull neon lights;
Flashing like they would fall asleep.
Jazz pours out
From some bar,
Club,
budding musician.
It is a therapy
To look down from a tall building
At night
And see this,
Hear this.
There is something in the absence,
Something in the boisterous silence
Of a never-sleeping city.
It clears the mind
To realize
That such dull light
Is enough.
It clears the mind
To realize
That such music
Is enough.
We don’t want what we think we want.
What we really want
Is this;
A view
From the top of a tall building,
To realize
We have all we need.
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