In Your Gentle Rain

in your gentle rain
my garden of water gets overflowed
If the water rises up to the level of my nostrils
I might become a tale myself

I sleep here everynight
on the surface of a frozen lake
on a dessert pillow
at the top of a blue hill
full of pines and palm leaves
where Life's wild orchids blooms
like a hunter's arrow

and I sleep here
a bleeding cloud

on the eternities darking road
a poem wears a sunshine
and speaks amber colored tales of love
Love that smells like sweet summer


hesitantly I look at the face
drawn by
the mystic darkness
and the poem breaths
my breath

it goes on
till it becomes a distant star
it burns in the air to ash
turning ash
it falls on my face

my face
drawn by the mystic darkness

my garden of water
and your gentle rain
the virgin wind
and the forbidden dance
the lure, serenity, passion and
a taste of bitter almonds

the tides rise up, up and above

and I give myself
a cloth with stains of blood
to wrap it all over my body
now then and forever...


slowly I see The cloud is fizzling out
and the poem


dead.....!
Monday, January 7, 2008
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