The Monsoon








The clouds are closing,

Thirsty soil awaits the rain;


My eyes are closing,

And I hope to be revived;


Roads run like rivers,

Carrying away


Dry loads of summer days,

Ashes of summer lives;


My heart is open

As I hope to be revived;


I chase the road

Which is too long for me;


And drops of monsoon rain –

Nature’s all-seeing eyes


Follow my steps

From leaves of ancient trees;


And thunder roars at me,

Forbidding that I stop


And lightning points the way

I’m meant to go


My eyes are closed, my heart

 Is open, and I walk


Into the core of the monsoon

To be revived or gone

12 thoughts on “The Monsoon

    1. Thanks for your comment, Carl! I certainly don’t think we have much say in the matter: we just walk out of the house and into the world; and whatever happens to us there we have to deal with as best we can.

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