seasons of the soul....

she felt the rage within her rise,
    from gentle sobs to screaming cries;
the tears, they burned her eyes, her soul,
    she waited for the pain to die;

and then it rained, it rained for her.....

the autumn hues coloured her eyes,
    with a sense of hope, for withered lives;
she longed for her loss to drift away,
    be buried in a chasm deep and wide;

and then it snowed, it snowed for her.....

the rush of time, a wearied prey,
    the battle of the everyday;
she wished that 'now' would seemingly halt,
    for new dreams to sow, of a better start;

and the night did fall, kissing her goodnight.....

as light dispels the darkened nights,
    and hope, it triumphs over plight;
a shimmering sunset, a sparkling dawn,
    her heart, it yearned for a new spring song;

and the sun did rise, and shine for her.....

Drenched musings

A rainy October afternoon. An unusual shower for this time of the year. There is always something serenely magical about rains. As i sit on my windowsill with a steaming hot cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, i cant stop myself from soaking in the magic of the moment. The rain drops fall softly on the window pane and i ardently watch them form a pattern of their own as they slide through. Its a game i used to play when i was a child. Trying to race two drops to see which one slides down first and silly as it may sound, i did have my favorites in the game. The raindrops create a ripple as they fall into the puddle below, each one effortlessly blending into the next. Watching these ripples, these concentric circles which now give a new dimension to this stagnant pool of water, brings back a lot of memories from the yesteryear's. Memories have their knack of arriving uninvited.

As i open the windowpane to feel the rain in the open palm of my hands, the icy coldness of the raindrops tingles me and fills me with a childlike exuberance. The wind chime sways to the gentle breeze and creates its own tapestry of music, as if orchestrating the grandness of the moment. Familiar and unfamiliar faces scuttle through the street below, drenched in the moment, unknowingly bound by a common thread, the rain. The little or no sunlight blurs the distinction between day and night. The hazy blurred picture created by the rains is a perfect disillusionment separating the unreal from the real or perhaps blending them into one.

The simplicity of these moments is empowering. As i try to devour these, i hear a voice say, "Unexpected shower but the weather looks beautiful, no? What time is it by the way?" And i smile to myself as i whisper, "Now. The time is now."