Decisive and dark, I fall upon the streets
I am aware of everything that exists in my way,
this whimsical age,
and drops that touch many a budding rose
and lovely face;
yet there is something within that speaks,
a blurry hope, a lack of finding on my part,
I confess, I think a lot.
Soon, thunder shudders on a hot
the air is brisk but elusive spark has yet
to awaken song
and matte grey glows in billows that surround—
I close my eyes and breathe,
it can be tedious to want to hold on
rain is both shards of glass and a cleansing.
Drop after drop, as though silken webs,
the pasture of his eyes beckon louder than
anything I have ever experienced—
tell me, does something like this occur often?
Do we change the moment we arrive there?
I am the rain, then how is it
that it’s he who instructs the sky?
Becomes as petrichor and fills the mind?
Perhaps it is a metaphor; if you were
to ask me why I dwell there,
I would have no answer— I am the rain,
I know only descending;
the escape lies somewhere between the leaves
and their undying thirst,
I am the rain, I know only descending,
I am not the one to blame, he turns around
and smiles mischievously in return.
Photo credits: Aaron Westerberg “Immersion,”oil on panel
Lillian is our lovely hostess tonight at dVerse where we gather together to read
aloud a poem of our choice. Come join us! ❤️
Posted for Open Link LIVE – July Edition @dVerse Poets Pub