Musings from a Monsoon Lake

February 9, 2017


a rainstorm pound

pound pounding on

a roof that is

not mine,

rivulets running

into lakes

i do not


water like

the moon and

scars not on my skins.


a chill in

the air that

stops before my soul,

noise of a crowd

that quiets at

a doorway,

the frenetic hustling

of fish

evading rain,

while i

stay dry

under this canopy,

within yet without

of this

raging storm

and with thet

knowledge that if

i stay here


the rain will

never affect me.

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