OLD FILMS IN POETRIES

THE RAIN IS AN ARTIST AND A POET

When lightning accompanied thunder,I used to scream and ran to my mother's arms.Fear was all I knew when I was a child.Socially speaking,I believe every child has the same fear,we have all cowered to it.

It felt soothing to be in our mother's arms as we hang tight on their shoulders,our heads resting on their strong brave chests,they hushed our fear down with their assurances and lull us to sleep.

Life at that age only teaches us the fear of thunders and storms,of the nature's most godly strikes upon our heads and all we needed was the warm and securing arms of our guardian's.

I think and think of how life was blissful and fears were infinitesimal.

And our horrors were easier to defeat under the dependence of our parents.

Nevertheless,now here I am,outside.Walking under the rain with a thought which doesn't belong to any synonym near peace.

My steps were heavy,I heaved them as I step forward.

Indulging myself in the droplets from the sky.

This is what I find myself to be─creating peace with the sky,with the thunders and lightnings.I may have grown up now that I strike to be independent from my mother's comfort but took refuge here out under the storms and gloomy heavens.

When has life become this much reciprocal to childhood?I don't remember.

But what I have known is that it was not all that bad and terrorizing as it was.

The rain.

Beneath the roar of the stratosphere,there is a deep and wound-healing solace.

I closed my eyes and absorbed all the river scattered down upon me,on the streets,on the Earth.

I opened my arms wide to no one in particular as I closed my eyelids.I instead opened my ears,

the sound of the rain splattered on the ground,all the pitter-patters felt like music that everyone else should be discovering and listen to,for it felt like a worship to a soul.

How have I missed this in my childhood?Why was I taught that thunderstorms were to be feared of?It cut no ice.Why were they saying it was natural to be frightened of it?Only if I had been enlightened to the knowledge of how the rain heals.

I believe I could have lived a little more than I did.A little more extra in depth of discovering Earth's passion.

I opened my mouth and drank the tears of the heavens,my heart beat succumbed in pain like there will be no more rain tomorrow.My brain composed music like no effort has to be made.It easily came to me as natural as breathing is.Subsequently,I wrote the anthem of the rain there where I stand─wet but not miserable,disheartening life but not grieving it.

"Fly me to the storms─

Where my tears will be one with the rains.

Where my yells will be one with the thunders.

Where my madness will be one with the lightning.

Where my heart will be one with the gloom and anger."

Sour lemons,sweet creams and demonic sentiment shrivelled through the wires of my brain and pump my heart to an unbearable overwhelming emotions.

I love this artistic feeling,this crucifixion of self.

The rain is seen as transparent but no colours will ever paint me alive more than it could by the clear liquid that is now bathing me along with my clothes.

And now I like rainy days better more than any summer or winter because I heard the clouds say that I am not alone in this grief of life.So I walk in his tears as he covered up mine.Then he cleaned me of the bad ones.I stroll in his embrace until the fog hugs my rotten thoughts away.This is where I am set free and where my soul healed.