Hibernation
Mina Laksh
19 November 2007, 15:05Whilst the rain batters and its drops chill into my soul,
I listen to the strength within
that breaths in and out, tellingly, that time has no limits
And love ceases when time calls back the years.
As time, waits not.
Yet,
the birds, like the beasts and the bats wander through the night and live from time to time.
And when such understandings occur a fine comma of truth filters into that void of telling tales, with telling dreams of what was a yester year.
Then,
As it melts into chocolate candy,
sweet to the delight for that sugared lolli,
never will it fade into visions of thought, of cinematic happenings.
For after all, who is to tell?
Who is that rain that battered on the windowsills of pain?
The flood of pulls and the significance of just one cry.
Because
The rains, like you and I, in its togetherness wipes away every drop that announces in its splash that there was this Fool who denied.
And the magician has learnt this just too late.
Late;
like the bats, the birds, and the beasts that drank the rain, over their fur, and slept and
hibernated when winter called.
