Wants to fly,
Is it the rain
to a different land…
where the world ends,
at the start of a land
water falls,
from the eye of a cloud
birds fly ,
on the stage of leaves
and I stand,
breathing the purity of my flesh….
Is it the rain
Which still pours beneath my fingertips?
Or my inner self being burnt in d sunlight
Is that the world looks more beautiful?
Or my eyes are being washed away with a few drops
my ears could hear the fluttering of leaves
a sweet humming wind or a storm of weeds…
this chaos is more beautiful
than our parallel running lives
it reminds me yet again
I am still alive!
