These clouds…

Amidst these dark clouds I see                                                                                                              Hope; fledging through the wrinkled pits                                                                                         of an old-eyed spark,                                                                                                                           Gleaming like a river                                                                                                                            On the dry soil he sits.

Then flashes the light                                                                                                                    Which with all its might                                                                                                                     Opens the heavens with a roar                                                                                                                             To see a great sight.

A being pours nectar;                                                                                                                            from the brass pit of air                                                                                                                  A cleavage opens, it gushes, moistens the man                                                                                    Clearing from his face the mud of tan                                                                                                   and blowing breezes like                                                                                                      under the wings of a swan.

I sense rejuvenation,                                                                                                                             something poking at my feet;                                                                                                               With inquisitive frowns, I stare the ground                                                                                      Just to see buds blooming in every street.                                                                                  This is the place where heaven and hell meet.

Amidst the spray of joy I sense,                                                                                                        Tears; opening out pages of fate                                                                                                          She made us our hope                                                                                                                            Smoke and garbage we called our mate                                                                                              It hurts when you love so hard,                                                                                                       and get ignored hard n straight.

But finally, then,                                                                                                                           I feel the seventh calm                                                                                                                                  I sense the joy and happiness as always;                                                                                             but now with a closed palm,                                                                                                              Never asking for love as an alm.

Then again some other eve, some other morn;                                                                                    with a smile on my face and bruises on my back                                                                               I live again, from every crevasse and every crack,                                                                 some intimate feelings, amidst these clouds.