A Landscape of Rain

The rain doesn’t come to this place all the year round, not any more. The clouds gather above, but never fall down the vaster land parched in waiting. A backdrop of eagerness hangs in the middle. The fullness of desire gains more depth above. The ground beneath sinks within the hollowed darkness. A possibility only hangs in between, like Lucifer, the fallen angel, sailing in the abyss between heaven and hell. They said, that rests upon us what to make out of it, hell or heaven ? 

Empty frame: the blank horizon by Sohom

What is reality? Reality, is that what hurts? Or is reality what assuages the bruises with its rickety fingers and icy sinews ? Primal mind bellows to get rid of suffocation, but they refuse to fall off. So many things gather above head. Mind gets numb. Sleep engulfs. Day breaks. Suddenly awake out of a dream, the sound of rain chimes in ears from outside. It’s raining again. Relieved. But was it a nightmare? Or a limbo? Mind is tired. Tired with its perpetual wrestling. It feels sleepy again. Droopier, the eyelids fall closer. Sleep engulfs into deep, now with the promise of a new day.

P.S. I wrote this around last September. I was going through an ANGRY PHASE and I was bleak. But, I like bleak things, like a Tim Burton Movie.