The glorious summer is going by…slowly tenderly… And the winds heard the bells of blessings coming again toward the earth. The street down the town went less crowded, the grasses breathed in relief. Winds started to pass through every nook and corner of this dying earth – cold soothing winds. They passed, they blew, they played in the hairs of waiting souls who believed – who believed that she will come again. The winds just flooded through the souls and reminded the ancient promise. The winds went on, they missed some fiery red petals who used to fly along with them. The winds sighed a moment and then broke the pause and went on…
The clouds were loosing patience and anger of years was rising in them. A revolution! A revolution – that is what they need against the reign of the unkind Sun. Gloominess they let preyed upon them – rising, floating then again rising , the were bursting in dark anger. A requiem they played again and again and so on. Those thundering melodies put even the Sun facing fear…hardly he could bear that. So he left his throne and took refuge behind the curtain. The bells rang again…
The hard lights smoothened, butterflies lost their shadows on the ground…they flew in freedom – no more they are bound to earth’s mortality. The fallen leaves on ground rolled in joy and wanted to escape as far they can go… Wild flowers and grasses shook their heads off and gave a farewell to all their burdens. They bloomed in a way to challenge the finest art of human kind. A lonely red brick lane saw the surrounding is getting drowsy in divinity or maybe in the ecstasy of life’s resurrection… That’s what is to come, here, any moment…
The clouds suddenly stopped their crescendo for a while and the grasses paused dancing, time took a pause to witness the moment… A little drop of life, sparkling with joy of universe, gracefully landed on the dusty ground. And then the blessings followed the messenger and arrived to break a curse. The clouds blasted in freedom and she came down, she came again to gain her reign, she came again to raise the life, to gift the love in immortality which was drying in the crucial chamber of earth’s heart.
Rain came again! And she kept falling from heaven. “Rise up life, rise up love, rise up all who praised” – she said. The winds blew a torn part of the grace through my window… Invoked some inspiration to lift up my pen again…
“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.” The trees, the grasses, the ground, the winds – they played the most beautiful symphony of the year. Everything went blurred, earth was flooded with love, new born flowers tasted life for the first time…and so on, she kept falling….
The clouds were loosing patience and anger of years was rising in them. A revolution! A revolution – that is what they need against the reign of the unkind Sun. Gloominess they let preyed upon them – rising, floating then again rising , the were bursting in dark anger. A requiem they played again and again and so on. Those thundering melodies put even the Sun facing fear…hardly he could bear that. So he left his throne and took refuge behind the curtain. The bells rang again…
“I am a being of Heaven and Earth, of thunder and lightning, of rain and wind, of the galaxies.”
The clouds suddenly stopped their crescendo for a while and the grasses paused dancing, time took a pause to witness the moment… A little drop of life, sparkling with joy of universe, gracefully landed on the dusty ground. And then the blessings followed the messenger and arrived to break a curse. The clouds blasted in freedom and she came down, she came again to gain her reign, she came again to raise the life, to gift the love in immortality which was drying in the crucial chamber of earth’s heart.
Rain came again! And she kept falling from heaven. “Rise up life, rise up love, rise up all who praised” – she said. The winds blew a torn part of the grace through my window… Invoked some inspiration to lift up my pen again…
“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.” “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
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