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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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Doomed to be like this

 I see

Leaves thrashing the window,

Scratches in the paint,

Lamps with fused bulbs swaying in the wind.

I sit doing nothing;

Yet I feel like I belong.

I have a lot in common with the world.

The world is thrashed by leaves from the world itself,

One is scratched away for merely existing,

We have no roots.

So we sway in the direction of the wind;

In the direction everything else moves.

I have a lot in common with the wind too.

Given the freedom to travel,

But not given eyes.

Given a chance to carry pollen

Without knowing it.

Hugging the snow on mountain peaks

Without being able to feel the cold.

Given a glass body to spread light,

But not given light in the first place.

Not able to really feel the wind,

The sun,

The innocence in the smile of a child.

We feel nothing.


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