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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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Loneliness is dead

 The bridge looks out through the mist and the morning sun.

And there are lovers;

Hugging,

Kissing,

Watching the water below like it's something new.

And there are friends;

Playing,

Smacking,

Pulling hair.

And there is a lonely man and a lonely woman

Sitting a bench apart,

Throwing quick glances at each other.

And there is a lonely man and a lonely woman

Wanting company

Yet not wanting it.

They both stand up at the same time

And it becomes awkward.

They come close,

Close,

Closer.

They come together

And their eyes speak the language of the wind;

Changing like fire

Yet recognizable

Only by each other.

They stare and stare

And see eyes and blood and heart and soul.

And all these things unite and become one.

And all these things pull them together for a kiss;

Violins!

Cymbals!

The veil of the mist is lifted.

Tables!

Electric guitars!

The pianist over-plays in joy.

The sun puts down its spotlight through a cloud,

And watches and watches more.

The wind stops yelling

And listens and listens more.

Loneliness is dead


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