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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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Mountains

 I stand on a mountain and see another mountain;

Dressed in snow for warmth.

I stand on a mountain and see another mountain;

A lonely man sitting in a corner of his quiet house,

Hugging himself,

A rock wanting to pulsate,

A rock very much alive

Trying to blend in with the dead things around.

I stand on a mountain and see another mountain.

But there is a bridge I've to cross.

But there is a bridge so narrow and missing planks

That I've to walk on.

I call myself tired and light a fire

And wait to tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes

And I find the mouth of the valley wide open.

Tomorrow comes

And I find the bridge swallowed by the very valley that allowed it.

I make up something for why the mountain I stand on

Is the better one.

I make up something

And go back to the campfire to warm myself.


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