Questions

What will the rains bring?
Will it bring solace that sates?
Will it quench the exhausting thirst?
Will it embrace the soil in fastidious copulation?

Questions that seek not answers,
But composed wisdom, long begotten.
The yin and yang of surrendered passion
Reveal answers raised much before the questions.

What will the winds do?
Will it lift the burden on the tired leaves?
Will scurry the stray paper to its final resting place?
Will it raise the dust cloud of riled misinterpretation?

Promised revenge in a bitter sweet mush soup
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
Faded and lost of colour,
When once it swore in all vigor.

What will the thunder say?
Will it spark up a darkened memory?
Will it claw through years of in-deference?
Will it clap the passing of silent moodswings?

Venture forth in brave anticipation
For a parting of minds, with no sorrow or tears
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
No more than taciturn sacrifice among the brambles.

What can the rains bring,
To a calcified constitution?
What can the winds do,
With a wavering promise?

What can the thunder say,
To a deaf premonition?
What can it all mean,
For a savior deeply tormented?

Questions that seek not answers,
Memories long forgotten in pretense…
While deep down what is sought to be no less,
For a savior deeply tormented.

- 10 June, 2008