The Rain Hits The Wilted Weather
Each day a day of ringing ceremony.
Time waiting to be changed with new beats blinking.
O that ebb of tides surprise me sometimes.
Now the good hides and seeks the bad,
Here learning dims and fades the nursery rhymes.
The far-scent of future rubs the today of light.
There, the being entangles in the rope of babel.
Scarce seems the patch of clear sun in sight.
Still fancy to chase the sight of sun
Walking around the rifts of life as the same
The winter touches again, right across the ocean.
Had tried and fought the chills
Though it never calmed the base,
that kept coming alongside the grey hills.
Often talked with the inner sublime ghosts
that surfaced in the deepest hole
In the brightest phase and when the soul boasts.
The journey never ends beyond death
The case goes on with the self nevertheless
the sparing thoughts that define the breath.
Little do we know of the impending force
that lurks inside each soul
between
the self that entangles and hits the course.
To rescue and instill the power lost,
times we reach to the One to guard us beyond.
When sky-self curtains stream, inside the frost.
Recherché comeback to self achieves me together
In the frame of His unison,
Though for a while, the rain hits the wilted weather.
