Lost words of a poet

They smiled each day
As Humility made them stronger
The meek and amiable voice
Wasn’t heard.
The gazes of satire
On filthy inhumanity
From the large windowpane
Unobserved.
And words deformed into meaning
Eventually.
Time couldn’t rob them of
From who they were.

The remains of those lost words,
Incite us to embrace an illusion,
Of time, being in a scurry.
As we cross paths
That unite us
With our mortal being,
The wanderer mocks at us
Steer us towards the light
Away from this misery.

Few lives we live
And for few
We outlive decades,
For the selfless
Mere blood and flesh
To ourselves, we deceive.

In this land of grief and fear
We die and reborn
Everyday.
From the ruins
Of those lost poets
And the souls
Who lived a life
Of discontent and drear.
—

About the rain

pic: instagram.com/rajatpradhan

The more she kept looking at
Those clouds
The longer it took her
To identify
And name the shapes
They formed together
The slow wind
Wasn’t strong enough
Those differently colored clouds
Mostly grey
Wandered beneath the pale sky
In a subtle way

Thoughts about
The immenseness of the universe
Were dismayed
The sounds
Surprisingly quite and how
When it’s loud outside
And everything’s not the way
They were before
Remembering the childhood
In to reality
Tasting the breeze
To existence
And there was silence
In the darkness
That once covered her thoughts
Soon the early drops
Started falling from the sky

“I feel like,
I should drop everything,
That worries me
And just walk,
Along the beautiful road.”
“It’ll be peaceful and
I’ll be happy for no reason.”

This was all about the rain
As she told me
—