Song About Rain

Rain is falling. Then I closed my eyes. Hear every rhyme from the water that falls to the earth. About the wind colliding, between the water and the leaves embracing each other. Wet ground. I listened to their stories, about the longing held back. Soared up and then tied. Until, they let go of what has been stored for a long time.

Everyone started running. Leaving the wet that began to sweep. Raising his hands to cover his head, he took steps to look for shade. I listen to their stories, about souls who don't want to be disturbed. Distracted by other romances trying to find a place. One stanza in a live episode. One second of wasted hours.

Thunder was also present. Screamed in the sky that had been wet for a long time. The flashes that appear at the beginning, are like a prophecy that a thunderstorm will come. I listened to their stories, of loud voices, but still in silence. Like those who are deaf, listening to a voice without a tone, seeing lips move, but all that is heard is silence.

Are you too? Mute and keep on mute. Hiding doubt in a sad gaze. Trying to look away, hoping the past is erased by a second that is not touched by the eye.

Or are you too? Shout and keep screaming. Cast out fear in the twinkling of a extinguished eye. Trying to fade the time, hoping it will be erased by the noisy seconds.

There will come a time when the wet soil will dry again and the barren soil will become clay. The time when one body is replaced by another. A time when one era is replaced by another.

Don't you see, those who walk strong. Even in the rain or in the heat. Feet that walk without receding. Hands clenched into fists without knowing a stretch. Looking down at the road.

So look at their eyes. Eyes that are silent but have a thousand stories of travel. That humans are not a single person, but a series of each episode that goes on and on. Each of us is an extra. Each of us is the main character. Each of us is an antagonist. Each of us is a protagonist.

It's still training. The streets are now deserted, except for a few cars passing by. People dwell on fragile roofs. Some of them grumbled about the rain building the walls. Some of the others rejoiced that the dry season would soon change.

Then how am I? About rain, water, thunder and wet earth. how am i?

So I just shut up and closed my words. It's enough for me, listening to the song of every drop of water that hugs the leaf with all its longing.