The touch of rain  

Even now, through all this rain
My eyes see no clearer
My breath reaches no further.
The tip of my nose
The scale of my sight.

The experience of warmth
I feel it
Briskly through my fingers
On my tongue.
On the drops that slide down my cheek
To my pillow
To the floor
Where they become nothing
Not even a dream of growth
The spur of an eventual flower
Fragile and ephemeral
A laugh
A thought
A bit of pain
Afflicted, welcome, received.
Not quantifiable
A spoonful of mistakes
A cup of good intentions.

It rains thunder
Over the greyness of the city
Over its doubts and secrets.
Nice, cold, fresh blanket.
Icy caress.
That of a giver of life
Disguised as an undertaker.

My backyard grows savagely
Clouds dance savagely
It all makes sense
This very minute of chaos
Of universal movement
A moment of life
Logical, stupid, passionate.

It makes sense for the rain.
It makes sense for my eyes
That see the rain pour
Who want to be that drop in free fall
The moment it hits the leaves
The road
A naked body
A word screamed
With all its might.

Still I am not wet
I don’t get wet
Watching from afar.
Dreaming from afar
That I will come close
And get lost
And be cold
And be storm
Be one with it
Dance with it
No ceremony
No expectations.
Just a moment
In the chaos.

Leave me alone world!
Don’t leave me!
Show me.
I desire nothing but to be wind and rain.



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