Lights In The Rain, Page 2

  And wealth enough to stop your worrying for evermore?

  You only ask for a little thing in the end;

  For all your hurts to mend,

  You're just saying in your heart,

  A thing only worth half the world is what you want.

  So, whatever happens,

  Whatever happiness or tragedy befalls

  Your fated life unexpectedly,

  You always come back to it hungrily;

  Ready even to sell your soul if there need be,

  You always prepare to fill your role

  As Paradise's guest;

  You always wait.

  ***

  Creeks in Winter

  Lost words fade on dusty pages,

  While time passes and the world ages;

  But even after leaves turn brown

  And the skies darken,

  When all turns white after a passing fall,

  I do not change a bit at all.

  Looking at myself in my self-made mould,

  I feel the whole world turn cold

  Whenever I try to approach the edge

  To escape this everyday dredge;

  I feel it all come crowding in,

  Frosting my heart with an icy shroud that only seems thin.

  What was I thinking?

  I wonder as cold fear starts my trembling;

  I should have known the truth,

  Known that what matters most in life is one's path,

  Should have felt in that lying heart of my own

  That moving doesn't always mean moving on.

  I sigh wearily as the light fades once more,

  Wistfully watching a near bank that is so far from here,

  Wondering if I'll ever leave this collective rush,

  Which feels more like a leash,

  That never really goes anywhere but leaves me always dangling;

  And, still marveling

  At how much my life now looks like a creek in winter,

  I glide on, surrounded by a world that fills me with a cold wonder.

  ***

  Look Down

  Canyon of towers,

  Glass reflecting the sun's thousand pieces;

  Wind cupped by concrete cliffs,

  Blowing past the fantastically black trees,

  Scatters petals that shine,

  As they pass through a shard of light that is so fine.

  What beauty has man molded

  From what God's left behind,

  You might say in wonder,

  But have you looked what's lying under

  Those marvels of the mind,

  Where now and then you can just see a little of nature's hand.

  You may still marvel at the thousands that walk

  Elegantly down the sidewalk,

  But over time,

  A really long time for some,

  You all come to notice what you are noticing,

  You realize your mind had been only choosing

  The few who look grand,

  The beautiful and the damned.

  Like a fake commercial

  You'll remember from your childhood if you recall,

  You notice you have been seeing only what you want,

  Only the few whom you have been taught to think look great,

  While the hundred other poor souls

  Seem to glide past unnoticed before your eyes.

  But even they are not the ones I want you to see,

  They are not what I want you to glimpse,

  For if you look a little lower,

  You'll see; if you just take a deep breath and break free of your fear,

  Yes fear, because you know what they represent,

  Deep down you know it's your lack of effort you now regret

  That has let them fall so low;

  It's you who might have as well dealt the final blow,

  That consigned them to live a life worse than an animal's,

  For it is still a crime to turn your backs

  To a truth even if it makes you feel shame,

  Because you know you could have fought back to save.

  So, if instead of glazing over what is obvious

  In reality's muddy surface you pass,

  You wish to see what is there,

  To peek at clarity is what you dare;

  You might face what has become of man,

  Finally see the world's dominant face of a human.

  Clinging to the corners,

  Hiding not deep enough in the shadows,

  You shall see the beggars,

  The rouges, and thieves

  That are always there in night and day

  In any big enough town, city, or even a highway,

  Staring as they, in words or looks, cry,

  An anguish they so readily ply;

  Begging someone to hear,

  Hoping somebody will answer.

  Dragging their wary days,

  Still fearing a future where with the world they'll part ways,

  They have always been there,

  Looking for a changing time,

  Waiting for you to notice if you can,

  If you have the will to look down.

  ***

  Raindrops in the Sunset

  Silence

  Lies all around in sound's absence,

  While even the hushed wind

  Blows half-heartedly through the land;

  The ground waits with its dry agony,

  As its cracks make a pleading cry to the sky.

  Gaping wounds of earth lie open,

  Waiting for a chance of water to bleed in,

  The land's parched surface

  Waits, staring at the skies above,

  Showing the real face of abandonment,

  A true painting of that divine art.

  Gnarled trees

  Scrape the sky with their dried twigs,

  As if they could make that serene void give

  Some drops of its watery tear without its choice.

  The dry riverbed lies past feeling shame,

  As it sleeps dazed in the sun without a cover for once;

  While some people look around in a blind act,

  Waiting for a thing they feel but know not what.

  All lies silently,

  As if everything's holding its breath desperately

  While waiting for that otherworldly moment,

  When anything could be possible at last.

  All wait for a rainbow at their doorstep,

  The sound of thirsty dirt meeting a water drop,

  The smell of earth and sky as they come together,

  The feel of sun heated skin as it gets sprinkled in water;

  But, most of all, the people wait,

  To renew their faith

  In a world that they hope holds all their heart's delight,

  By seeing those magical jewels that form when raindrops join sunlight.

  ***

  Black Cup

  They hold her struggling form before your eyes,

  The one you have sworn to love and protect in so many worded lines;

  But what are words, really?

  Nothing but a few breaths with a touch of melody.

  They strip her down,

  Tear her garments to lay bare her skin,

  Then He comes into your dark cell,

  Hooded and wearing robes just like them all,

  But you know,

  Oh, you know!

  Out comes the jeweled dagger,

  Made of dragon-tear,

  Held by a hand with not a waver

  Does it appear,

  The hand that had promised to always protect you 'till death,

  The hand that had promised to only guide and teach,

  The hand of your master,

  Your tormentor!

  The dark blade shines in the light,

  As it makes lines so bright

  On the skin you have touched,

  The ski
n you have traced with your lips as you slowly kissed,

  Once on both thighs,

  Once on both wrists,

  Once on both breasts,

  And twice on the neck just under both ears.

  Then comes that cup,

  The thing you've heard from so many a lip;

  Into that thing also made of dragon-tear does He collect the blood swiftly,

  Without a drop of waste, so sickeningly and neatly.

  Then does He slowly advance,

  Far enough for you to brush the hem of His robe when you try to pounce,

  To place that dark cup

  Filled with the blood of your love to the top,

  And from His robe he pulls out a key of bone,

  To place next to that cup on the floor of stone,

  A key, you know, that will release you,

  Finally let you free from the chains that to the dark wall bind you.

  Then they all stand,

  Leaving your love who doesn't even lift a hand,

  And pull back their hoods

  To show their hungry eyes in their pale hairless heads,

  Even He seems at the edge of a control that is starting to tear;

  But He still moves first to the lever as you hope and fear,

  The lever that would release you for just enough time to reach

  Where the cup and key wait, but not one more inch,

  Before the cold rusty chains

  Start to pull you back again into that dark wall of your den's;

  He tells you all this before he pulls that lever,

  And, in an inhuman swiftness, joins the others by your cowering lover,

  They don't wait a moment more when they are all near,

  Peeling back their lips, they quickly begin to tear

  At her now pale body;

  They start to drink her dry.

  And you wait doing nothing,

  But as soon as you feel the chains start loosening

  You plunge forward,

  Telling yourself this time you'll have the right thing in your hand,

  But deep down you know you lie,

  And when you finally open your hands before your face,

  You aren't surprised to see the cup there instead,

  While you hear the screams of her who is slowly becoming dead.

  And, for the hundredth, thousandth, time you lie in the darkness of your trap,

  Whispering you'll make it all stop,

  You drink, telling yourself next time you won't succumb to the thirst,

  Next time you won't chose the Black Cup instead of your heart.

  ***

  An Old Friend

  A sound of knocking

  Comes from a door I don't remember locking,

  Making me, in confusion, ask,

  'Who's there?' at the dark.

  Wood old as me creeks in the silence,

  Before the answer arrives from a small distance,

  'An old friend,'

  The words lead my heart to both elation and dread,

  For the dry voice

  Stirs memories I had thought long lost by a forgotten choice.

  'Come,' I whisper,

  Not thinking as I strain to see with a need to know all things the black harbor;

  And before even my lips have finished

  Parting with the permissive word they so dearly held,

  The door creaks softly,

  Revealing a figure cloaked in shadows so craftily.

  My heart stops for a second,

  In a hidden knowledge it alone seems to have remembered,

  Before shuddering to a frightened start that makes my wits a scarcity,

  Fear seizes my heart as sense finally takes the place of curiosity.

  'Who?' the word escapes me,

  Even though I already know what the answer is going to be;

  'Death,'

  The reply makes me shake in the coldness that comes with my every breath.

  'Wh...what...,' I splutter,

  As my thoughts become a senseless clutter,

  'I've come for what I once lost,'

  It replies in a whisper of frost;

  And with those words It steps near,

  Close enough for Its features to be clear.

  I scream,

  Until I open my eyes and realize it was all just a dream;

  But even as I wrestle with my frightened thoughts,

  Even as I shake in the night's subdued lights,

  'Forget,' is the thing I whisper alone,

  In the wake of a nightmare that shakes me to my bone.

  ***

  Emperor

  Red falls obscure the ground,

  As petals are thrown from all around;

  While people bow in fear and love,

  Cursing and praising the heavens above,

  All steal glimpses of the one ahead and beyond,

  Since such a great one is a rare thing to behold.

  According to the sacred laws,

  In dead fountains blood flows,

  While around the throne the mighty gather

  To watch the sacrifices' slaughter,

  And hear their screams as they burn

  Before a seat that's waited for him since the ages begun.

  Sweat dampens rich garments,

  When men of power shake in fear of unknown torments,

  As they wait for the one they've hunted since his birth,

  For the one they now called Lord of Heaven and Earth.

  With each steadied step he comes closer to his right,

  The one denied him since his escape one night,

  And the great ask themselves fearfully,

  What will his Majesty's reward be for treachery.

  Finally reaching the throne,

  He takes his place alone;

  The only witness of his subject's fall,

  He sees the bowed heads of one and all,

  He watches as few in love, and most in terror,

  Kneel before his grace, and their emperor.

  ***

  The Smile of an Urchin

  Exquisite strokes carve life in shades of brown,

  On a canvas that has travelled from distant ages down

  The hands of rich and noble which tried to trap,

  Until it reached even a lowly merchant's grasp.

  Beady eyes stare from a dirty face

  Of a different time and forgotten place;

  Small shoulders bow slightly,

  As if they took the loads of life not lightly,

  Or maybe it was a crouch of fear,

  Fear of being noticed by those who were near.

  All those who laid their eyes upon that little face,

  Claim to see a mischievous smile that left no trace

  Of doubt that it was a creature of slyness and greed,

  Which they in no doubt saw clearly indeed.

  That might be the truth and fact,

  But maybe the hand that traced those paints in a magical act

  Wanted each of us to see that face in a different light,

  A light that shines from our hearts if we but let it be bright.

  Maybe or maybe not,

  And if you think about it you'll find that it doesn't matter a lot,

  Since the best arts are like the world,

  Which is so hard to behold

  And understand with all our actions;

  They are mirrors that always taunt us with our own reflections.

  In any case,

  I feel many a thing when my sight touches that small figure with a face,

  But when my eyes find that smile of an urchin in turn,

  I only see a forgiveness I wish to one day learn.

  ***

  Under a Lemon Tree

  I hear a tinkling,

  A sound part gurgling,

  As water laughs in a fountain unseen,

  While I rest my head with a lean

  On the rough skin of a wood<
br />
  I sit under with a contented mood.

  Afternoon crawls past with my unwanted needs,

  And I watch through cracked lids

  The thousand stars that shine in the light of day,

  Which sunlight makes as it splinters past leafs in its way.

  Beyond my green roof and in the distant sky,

  Clouds appear like hills that fly;

  While a playful air blows past my face,

  Bringing the smell of lemons from above and coolness from a distant place,

  The heavens change in a slow dance to their distant part,

  In a riot of colors as they make a timeless art.

  I sigh, satisfied,

  To spend such an afternoon I find,

  For what better place is there to be

  Than here, sitting under a lemon tree.

  ***

  Cold Life

  Crushed with time,

  Straining to remember and see

  A golden past

  That flees so fast,

  I make my way

  Through my dreary day,

  Doing, in whatever form or shape,

  What most have done before.

  And I want to ask while I still can hear,

  Why do I do this for?

  What do I expect the future to hand,

  But the fate of old,

  What do I see on tomorrow's shores,

  Other than the inevitable losses

  And the only lifeline I can touch

  Which leads to the empty hands of death.

  They say no one chooses to be born,

  While you say no one can hold you back if you choose to take the exit turn;

  And so, again, I want to ask,

  Hoping to find an answer I lack,

  Why do I cling with hope to everything I do?

  Cold life, why do I love you so?

  ***