A hundred years of solitude is more bearable than a day without you or a year without rain
Spring steps in:
He sees Flowers that don't bloom
And bees that don't buzz.
And birds that don't sing.
A deadly silence begins to fills the wind.
And not a single rain drop has fallen.
It's now Summer:
The sun beats down heavily upon him.
Wordless prayers escape his parched lips.
Thirst consumes him because all he sees are distorted figures chasing dried up rivers or barren trees.
And not a single rain drop has fallen.
Autumn approaches:
Nature yearns for moisture.
But the yearning proves futile.
There is only dry earth coupled with lost hope.
Raspy voices fills the air he listens to
All crying out desperately.
And not a single raindrop has fallen.
Winter finally wakes -
Death and darkness seep through the creavices of open space.
He forms little wishes with the Broken echos surrounding him.
Clear, bright skies,
Everlasting greenery,
sheer drops of rain.
Tomorrow is Spring.
The new day will bring rain.
YOU ARE READING
Dulcet Musings of a Restless Mind
PoetryThese violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die like fire and powder; which, as they kiss, consume. A compilation of my violent delights as a teenager. I otherwise like to refer to it as poetry - scattered words on a page, seeming...
