It was an outrageous moment:
the words were silent, syllables
separated what she didn't feel
from what she longed to write.
Somewhere in the universe,
there must be the cold palpitations
of her mossy heart.
When she lifted her soft lids,
she saw nothing but a chasm:
a moonlit opening between
her soul and her hands.
She could swear she had fallen
from the stars.
Pain has to be abstract.
life just a surreal enigma:
She reflected for a while.
She opened her Book of Shadows
looking for answers.
She searched her corners, she
emptied the pockets of her dreams:
she was seeking some comfort
or remembrance.
It was raining,
a symphony written for her.
She opened the door and
left.
She could think better in the rain.
Karla Bardanza
"She could think better in the rain..."
ReplyDeleteVery true Flower. We feel like our troubles are washed from us and we walk in the rain. It showers the troubles from our soul. Blessings.