Thunder reason

Clash of thunder,
The gods play;
Lightning bright,
Thunder loud.
Rain pelting on arid land;
Gazing up towards a shortened sky,
Merry-making pitted patter
As death cycles by.

Wonder lust in reason,
Sudden release of raindrops
The size of dinner plates;
Crashing onto the ground,
Washing away sins of dust,
Cleansing the tired,
Revitalising all passion and glory.

Parting along ravines of streaks,
Running streams of lines,
Across the frail leaves on trees
Almost stopping to listen
To the sighs of relief,
The sun unmercifully hanging above
Silently watching, and waiting for her time.

Today there are smiles,
From ear to ear among the faces
Rejoicing in the mercy of cool waters.
Those cascading drops coupled into release,
Of passion but not purpose;
Of dreams but not reason;
Of forgetfulness but not forgiveness.

All around the grass seemingly pray in unison
On this dark, seasoned night.
The passion fruit of seduction,
Hovers in the air
For nights like these
Are for surrender
To one’s unspoken fears.

Ne’er a night like such comes twice in a lifetime
In a hurry to relinquish the sacred touch
Of a forbidden want
That revels in emotions.
Churning restlessly like the clouds above,
Stirred by wind forces
That lies invisible to the casual observer.

Unremembered occurrences,
Caught in the eyes of forever.
Bursting were it not for the rainfall.
The heavy fears of humanity,
Tossed around like a coin in a tin cup
Ironically from the nervous habit
Of an unfulfilled dream.

The clouds clash
In claps of thunder;
For the gods play
Beyond the distant moon rising
Yet under the eyes of the wavering sun;
Which, but for the clouds
Would seek its revenge.

What of the light that shines
In the lonely rooms,
Scattered among the living?
Peppered like careless salt flakes,
From the casual brushing hands of uncaring gods.
The demented and the denied,
Share a defiled place along the windowsill.

The rain that falls,
Anoints with equal fervour
The chosen and the unworthy;
Almost like a holy man
Who acts with neither rhyme nor reason.
The anointment washing away the sins,
Of a presumed guilty conscience.

As the rain pauses for breathe,
To let up in some way
And gather its strength to an encore,
The unreformed mortals look up at the sky to see,
Whether after all that unrelenting beating
If the squeaking of wheels can be heard
As death cycles by…

- 07 June 2007