So long have weBeen used to the rain.
The cold winds,
Slapping thoughts,
To turn to reality.
The numbed senses,
Calmed.
Every time,
We had emerged-
Lighter - than before.
Faith and Trust
Had been personified-
In our stride.
Buoyant in our celebration,
Of the Truth and its Rejuvenation-
Our days had gained a new sheen,
Amidst all the needed redundancy.
The magical dream-run now
Is close to an end.
The final countdown,
Has begun its slow march
To the inevitable-already.
Days painfully numbered,
Dreams unwillingly crystallized;
The Distance greater-intensified,
Each time our eyes meet.
Passive in the
Illusion of our days so far,
We wait-
In anticipation,
To the New.
Yet a part of us-
Yearns to turn back the time.
The vivid moments captured,
Locked deep in our
Mind clocks.
Wary of what would follow,
In lieu of proximity.
We step back-
Conscious-
Of our new roles.
As an innocuous by-stander-
Watching the colours splash-
And paint renewed webs of thoughts.
Yet alert to all nuances,
That the forced subtlety would
Choose to hide.
Logic takes hold of us now.
The cold practicality-
Of needs and wants-
The blacks and whites,
Of the rights and wrongs-
Take a backseat-
In their cemented permanence.
Clarity in wakefulness-
Is what we now live by.
The choice had been long made-
When once lost.
Every step now taken,
Would have its cost.
But we hold on-
'Coz through the rain-
We had learnt-
What would always
Make sense.
Empty though-
A road void of aim.
Yet its a phase-
A mere consolation.
Till the seeker finds solace again.
