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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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Beauty in predictability

 The cabin amid yellow trees

Near a pond

With a waterfall as high as my knees;

I knew how this place would be.

The flowers are still white and pink,

The moss on the wood hasn’t grown or shrunk

A visible bit,

The ladder on the side is still missing a plank.

I knew how this place would be.

It has been like this

Ever since my brain learned to shove the world into mere images

So brutally.

It has been like this

Ever since my ears learned to shove the coolness of the water into mere sounds

So brutally.

It has been like this forever

And yet I long to see it as it is;

And yet I long to not see it change.

There is beauty in predictability

Sometimes.




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