- in the name of Allah -
Even on days dry as summer leaves, or when echoes from guns fill the autumn breeze,
Even when war tears apart the peace, or when famine quells potential in its bosom brief,
Thereafter always comes the rain, to wash away in steady rhythm, the blood and pain.
Even on days dulled from stifling winter cold, or when laughter rings from tragedies untold,
Even when greed rips open unhealed scabs, or when nature takes its course from wrath,
Thereafter always comes the rain, to spell the sorrow, as in a silent pictured frame.
Whether in drizzle or downpour, maelstrom or monsoon, for any season not in tune, there's always rain to envelop the mood, a steady cleanse of humanity's grief, soothing wounds whence they could only seethe. Inevitable as wind, unkempt by needle of compass or whim, rain rides the waves with clouds just barely heaving, until a time comes to unload the burden and release what's within. Always falling, always wet, giving life to both soil and soul, no matter the presence of decay or regret. Rain restores and shines, joining with the light of sun to sprout rainbows from gloom or grime.
- finished on 9.26