As my thoughts rained onto you
My clouded mood gloomed thy spirits
-And I delivered those impregnated melancholies
...Which sprouted each grain of love
Saved for the next season
But, Worry not for the starving days ahead
For again the billows of desperation
Will strike the walled desolation
...for the torrential passion
To erode the strata of sheathed frigidity
..and germinate the solitary kernel, buried DEEP
Souls too, like rivulets and plants, needed a different kind of rain: hope, faith, a reason to
ReplyDeletelive. When this did not come to pass, everything in that soul died, even if the body went on living; and the people could say: “Here in this body there was once a man.”