Raindrops

Like the cycle of raindrops,
As the dark clouds beckons us to fall,
We drench the pavements of flat surfaces,
Trickle down mountains
Fill up river terrains,
But at the arrival of the sun
With it’s scorching heat
The sky calls us back
To where we first came…

And like trust built by two
Making known vows
Laden with promises
Who knows in the thought of ones beloved
For even devotion is a frail existence
On the surface of the universe.

Not knowing beginning nor the ending
We live in the tension of a middle existence
Having the present
Guiding light
For the steps that we have taken
As mortals
Are like dust to the wind

If so, questions of hope now arises
In the futility of life’s bitter cycle
The random repetitive circle of the sun rising
And sets to as the blue sky embraces the the darkness
Mere mortals
Like dust to the wind
Even in the perseverance of striving.

Time holds us by the head
And spins our oxygen filled breath
A run for its money
In chase of the next greatest movement
What the next generation
Smear their footsteps on our name’s sake achievements.

Like the cycle of raindrops
As the dark clouds beckons us to fall
We drench the pavements of flat surfaces
Tread a stream down the mountains
Fill up full, river terrains
But at the arrival of the sun
And it’s scorching heat
The sky calls us back
Our trace
Now but all forgotten.

Somehow today has been a depressing day. The noonday demon has made it’s way and buffeted my thoughts. This poem is a reflection of sorts on Ecclesiastes 1-4, which is probably the most cynical book in the bible. It’s a true classic.

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