I look out the window.
The raindrops cloud my view.
They drizzle down the window,
But are quickly replaced by the new.
The raindrops lead to a peace,
And the peace leads to reflection.
Life could have lead a different path;
Taken a different direction.
From birth, a weight was given to me;
That I shouldn’t freely go about.
Gradually, its effects amplify.
And it continues, without a doubt.
A half of my soul is missing.
Tangled in its greed, it fled.
The half still here, it doubled.
And the other, it is dead.
“If” surfaces now and then,
But usually hides from sight.
Memory is read-only.
So I read, but never write.
The raindrops remain in the window.
And though they cloud the view,
The light still pierces through them,
As the day begins anew.