Cold breakfast on a damp carpet:
A poetic way to welcome the fall.
Glass panels stained with rain,
Obscuring the trees swaying outside—
Leaves in shades of tired green.
Open all the windows and swing your doors
Wide agape, so that chill winds could rush in
And cut across the bare skin—
Like glass.
Who placed this horrific Thorn
In my Bone and Flesh?!
Was it a Tough Teacher,
Who, through all harsh disciplining,
Still intends to Nourish—
Or, was it merely
An ill-wishing
Witch?
.
.
.
Wise Shamans kindly remind Us
To not think only in what Lacks,
But We mortals remain too Hungry
For our own Sakes—
Wisdom passed on,
Yet scantily We digest.
Oh the Irony, baby.
Are we Rocks
In this Fountain of Life,
Wet, but never to have
Drunken a true Share?
.
.
.
If it is too hard
To stay Awake,
May I at last humbly ask
Of thee—
My Love, my Kin,
my Eternal Mate, whomever
I think You are—
Could You please contemplate,
Inconveniently, this corny and overused Notion,
“Have you ever seen the Rain?”
Well, Have You?
Have you heard its Forthcoming,
And allowed its Simple Rumor
To have Stirred you
Deep,
Deep inside?
.
.
.
Now,
Shall We Sit
Side by side, and Once More
Try to taste the Ocean
In this Raining Sky?
It’s been raining all day here in my city; it’s nice to have these temporary periods of freezing but ultimately refreshing showers, as if nature is cleansing all of us in a preparatory ceremony of what’s ahead. Contrary to the conventional morose connotations associated with overcast days with incessant, chilling precipitation, I wish to persuade all of us to see it under a different light: Rain Excites; it dawns upon those who are willing the physical manifestation of inner tranquility, and rinses the once dried-up-tight knots of both the mind and body. Rain is a spiritual symbol of the meditative, altered state of mind, as well as the carrier of life.
who are you, when it is all seemingly a void? do you confront or give in to the self that only emerges in emptiness? or do you become consumed by it, losing the sight of self entirely, for there has never been a definitive you in moments like this?
Upon every exterior, fissure, and tiny crater—dampened is Clarity on a trip Home.
A hundred thousand galaxies flourished and died, beautifully tragic and splendid, all in the relative few seconds, in which we sat dazed, watching as drops of rain glided past our windows.
a rain drop hanger 🙂
Truly Take you Somewhere?
nothing so certain as rain
Particular Moments 