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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 absurd

 There is a straw in the glass.

But there is no juice.

There is a straw in the glass,

Never removed,

As if it was kept there to suck up air;

As if the air in the glass is somehow different.

There is so much absurdity;

Threads of so many different colours through the hole

On the same needle.

There is so much absurdity,

That logic is useless.

That's why

We have art,

That's why

We have those friendly lads with tattoos,

Doing crazy stuff on a packed road.

That's why

We have mystery,

Poetry,

The dry leaf that balances on the rim of the bin

Without falling in or out.

They build systems,

They build roads

That claim to reach places.

We have tried to curb the absurdity

And failed miserably.

We have tried

And realized we shouldn’t try.

We have tried

And learned to embrace the different,

The poetic,

The absurd.

There is a beauty in it.


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