There is a sense of profound grief and joy
blended in the much awaited rain drops,
the moment they escape from the cloud-hills.
As if they have waited for years of freedom
and those years have been slow and fast,
eluding glory from the tiny soldiers marching
towards death in the pit of the thirsty hell.
In the kingdom of Cloud-hills they were gods
of divine evolution waiting for a supreme order,
to re-unite with the earth’s crust into matter-
tiny beads of light, happiness, love.
So they kiss the grass, fix the butterflies,
Wets the soil to become fertile like the mother’s womb-
And then die gradually for another birth.
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 5:50 AM UTC
There is a sense of profound grief and joy
blended in the much awaited rain drops,
the moment they escape from the cloud-hills.
As if they have waited for years of freedom
and those years have been slow and fast,
eluding glory from the tiny soldiers marching
towards death in the pit of the thirsty hell.
In the kingdom of Cloud-hills they were gods
of divine evolution waiting for a supreme order,
to re-unite with the earth’s crust into matter-
tiny beads of light, happiness, love.
So they kiss the grass, fix the butterflies,
Wets the soil to become fertile like the mother’s womb-
And then die gradually for another birth.