The Rain of My Life

The sun looks for a shade to hide

As the sky reads rain to dawn early.

The first love of the thirsty soul of soil

Concurs with the redolent pure of petrichor.

The pour doesn't wait and dives for unity,

As grounded eyes grow wonder in size,

And rivet at the vista of tears from heaven.

It crackles click in my garden and

Bounces to touch my reddened knees,

My feet urge to amalgamate

And revel in the pacifying cold of each falling drop.

I envisage myself and my dripping wet hair,

Swaying around to melodies of earth,

And the folds on my head leveling out,

The clear plains and all of the joy.

I envision each trouble relinquish me

And melt me free from all the ropes,

My happy tears rushing out

Like captives out to the air of freedom

Unseen unheard among the dopple drops, Concealing among the conciliator.

My vision takes the better of me

And my feet amble towards the drips and drops,

But suddenly stride back

And frenzy enters my mind.

The pricking eyes around me shall judge

And the pricking judgement will be hurtful.

Forever can one say that words don't matter,

But my words have so proven otherwise.

I stand still and contemplate,

As I do each minute of sun and moon.

My chin moves up and brows sharper,

For once I'll do what my heart shall say.

I brave through tempest thoughts of prying irises,

And tread ahead to feel the rain voice for me,

But there is no rain.

My face, as dry as the ocean is wet,

Brims with remorseful barrenness.

For in all thought and reasoning alike,

The rain of my life had passed along.