By Ritwik Das
Beneath the heavy clouds so grey,
A heart weighed down, in disarray,
Footsteps falter on wet ground,
A soul in sorrow, nowhere bound.
The rain falls gentle, soft, and cool,
A solace found in nature's rule,
Yet within, the storm is fierce,
Each drop a tear, each step, a pierce.
Umbrella cast aside, no shield,
Embrace the storm, the hurt unhealed,
The puddles form, reflections seen,
A broken heart, a hidden dream.
The path once clear, now blurred and damp,
The spirit dimmed, the mind a cramp,
Each raindrop whispers secrets lost,
Of love and hope, now turned to frost.
The streets are empty, ghostly quiet,
A silent witness to the riot,
Within a heart, now torn and bruised,
A yearning cry, a love refused.
The chill seeps in, to bone and core,
A gnawing ache, forevermore,
Yet still the rain, a soothing balm,
Its rhythmic beat, a fragile calm.
Each breath a sigh, each glance a plea,
For peace, for light, for clarity,
But in the rain, no answers found,
Just echoes lost, in sorrow drowned.
Yet forward steps, though small and slow,
Through rain and hurt, the soul must go,
For in the storm, a strength is born,
Through every tear, a heart adorn.
The rain persists, but so does hope,
A fragile thread, a lifeline's rope,
For in the darkest, wettest night,
A spark of dawn, a hint of light.
So, walk the rain, with head held high,
Though heart may ache, let spirit fly,
For storms will pass, and skies will clear,
And joy will come to quell the fear.
By Ritwik Das
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