Rain

They do not know what’s in the rain, 
they never gazed beyond the grey of nimbus,       
nobody got excited for the tremors of thunder,     
nobody witnessed the self loathe of lightning’s flash.

Things of beauty are never meant to last,     
everything great would have a sad unknown tale, 
reality of existence is bound by the duality, 
that is the one truth that rules over_ 
the very fabric of space, time and thoughts.

Every time it rains there follows the spring.
The benevolent drizzle has a violent storming face.
The story of rain is solicitous to the_
tale of eternal cycle of preservation and destruction.
A tale that rules over the laws
of both the savage men and benevolent beasts,
of both pestilent thoughts and stagnant minds.

They do not know what is in the rain 
they never gazed beyond the grey of nimbus
nobody heard the stories of long lost streams
nobody listened to the screams of lonely winds.

Bliss is in the rain,
rage is in the rain,
heaven is in the rain,
hell is in the rain,
God is in the rain,
love is in the rain,
Death is in the rain,
life is in the rain.