Ruminating Memories Poem by lalitha iyer

Monsoon sailed in
and life is wet;
tears cloud
and needles of rain pour.

Needling rain
injects pain
pain is beautiful
it makes life colourful.

pain is always pain
if something is sure, it is.
may be yours, may not be
but that death and farewells thrive
and dear ones die and you cry.

Rain is life, life is raining
full of insecure abnormalities
between two laughters creeps in reality
like the film that drools you between cool ads.

I can see the future's silhouette
I can read your mind as far as I can mine
I read yours only in my own language
A deer cannot read a tiger's language too.

I stand before the needles of rain
they like straight lines are drawn
between earth and sky, my heart and divine
slides of past run by, they seem to see me and whisper
I stand numb and frozen, could them see me I am triggered.

Can the unborn see us, can the dead ones watch us
can the non living talk and can the living non talk
can minds talk with each other, can talks be simply country wastes
Can my emotions be spirits of dead or unborn
Can my passions be their feelings unsown
Are we born out of dead men's balances
Are we just recycled from the remnants of dead ones
Are we only here to finish the original cycle
Are all the desires and wills Creator's own will
Come let us think together, if you could put your mind to mill
Are we just ending scenes, acted by artists who departed before bell.