Strange are the ways of rain and love - 2
Mystical seems this rain of affection,
That walks the ways of intellect the least,
The heart heeds to no pointers posed by hardened head,
Just as rainy clouds have no reason
For why or where they choose to fall,
Maybe, they heed to the dictates of their own heart.
Love too, like rain clouds, knows only to give:
In a crowd, by playing a common melody,
In sleep it enters through the door of a dream,
To one awake, it plays notes of anticipation,
Whatever means it chooses,
Its ways to give are always subtle.
Whosoever stands under raining love
Is first dampened by the mist,
Then bathes under its heavy shower,
Only to be drowned in a flood of feelings
Carried away by the rising tide of affection,
Yet, to drown in love seems to find the shore.
One may ask how and why.
You only have to look at a single drop of rain---
One that falls straight from sky into the sea,
Submerged and drowned in the deep,
It never truly is lost,
But simply has become one with the sea.
Strange are the ways of human heart
That knows no language made of words,
It speaks only the tongue of feelings.
To heart, a no can mean yes, and a yes, approval,
It lives beyond the humdrum of give and take
That turns a clear spring of love to a dirty stream.
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Musings | 22.08.2026 | head, heart, love, rain, Free Verse
Note: Set in sestets, there is no fixed meter. The piece follows what can be called a relaxed rhythm.
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