Each Drop (Part Two)

I have lived, years without you now;
Water and wind, move fast, move past;
Everything is mutable here,
Abstract or concrete, nothing lasts.

The monsoon winds are strong
And I remember you wet in rain.
You left – them, long ago;
But here they are wetting everything again.

I’m lying in bed,
Thousands of minutes away,
And remaining here,
Think of the gods who cast me away.

I heard a song, that reminded me
Of the way you turned to look at me,
And I cried a bit – maybe more –
Remembering all we used to be.

Now, my darling, I’m not afraid.
There is no fear of living or dying;
Because it’s just a road, taking me
To the place, where you’ll be lying

In wait, with all the rest who went before
To become the value of this life –
Who will profess how well I lived
And vouch for each drop of love and strife.

That’s what it all comes down to:
This journey traversing me and you:
A meeting, a distance and a gate
And all that’s eventually true.

If not, I have, yet, nothing to fear:
There won’t be a calling back…
I’ll give voice to wind and heart to water,
And fade upon the stars dressed in black.

Torture of May

The mornings have never made sense:
The sun comes up and the world spins around,
The stars grow light, the light grows dense,
The moon turns her face, moving underground.

There’s no reason why I am here:
Perhaps it’s not so just to understand
I’m just an atom on this sphere,
Made from water and very little land.

Knowing why this sphere spins in space,
Dances around the sun and doesn’t ignite,
Isn’t required for the human race
And this question doesn’t manifest our fight.

The one who wakes when the sun dies,
Oughtn’t to ask such questions anyway.
There isn’t need to unmask sad lives –
Leave them to this balmy torture of May.

Made that Way

You will surely leave. You will not stay.
It is your wont: you are made that way.
The sun will rise and that is for sure;
The moon finds same time to cast her lure.
The Stars will burn, blow up, fade and die –
It just is, come on, do not ask why.
The tides will turn, as sure as you do,
You cannot twirl them like you mean to.
We may appear to change, you and I;
But that is just it, we will just try.
We can learn it all, grow old and die;
But I’ll still feel and will not deny.
And you, in your own way, will say:
It’s not his fault, he was made that way.