Rain taps on the windowpane The dead singing along the downpour, The living dying with each descending raindrop who's the one here shedding the tears who among these holds life more dear? A simple thing life, a fickle thing life a selfish thing life, making us endear it endlessly. Do you ever think about it? how cruel it is to keep running away And running towards death with each passing deed. But till the time comes Rush behind the paper boat that is now afloat of vintage dreams and debt notes praying for it to see the seven seas and return with flowers from different springs, Inhale the reeking of the wet earth soaked in collateral damage and daily contemplations. Wait till the bow appears, a prism of colors and hope a celebration of mistakes and the spectator of my forlorn attempt to escape.