Author: nanna

the silent sound of rain

dropping steadily

like sadness into a broken heart

there is not much to do

to prevent it

neither the rain

nor the braking of a heart

all we can do

is to search for shelter

in some secret corner of our consciousness

where neither rain

nor heartache

can reach us

and stay there quietly

till the rain stops

mists

mysterious mists

mildly covering the world

while a steady silent rain nourishes

the deeper layers of the ground

beneath the feet

moving through opaque veils of

mists

reflecting an inner state

of sleepwalking through the unknown

penetrated with hope

guided by faith

emanating love

debilitating pain

seizing the body

in a suffocating embrace

leaving no space for relief

the time the tide withdraw

and leave the shores of consciousness naked

exactly how painful

pain can be

is forgotten as successfully

as the pain sets in

the world around disappears

and all the mind can focus on

is how to overcome it

the wind is whispering to the moon

across layers of soft clouds

dissolving layers of pride

into rivers of belonging

running through a strangers heart

towards another strangers drought

in something as volatile

and as deep

as friendship

stars

after a whole day of rain

seems miraculous

with small white clouds

illuminated by the moonlight

turning what seemed yesterday an impenetrable mess

into vaults of insights

towards eternity

there is nothing violent about the rain

if not for the steadiness with which

it is tapping on the window frame

as if it had no intention

ever to stop again

this continuous insistence

like a nagging voice

in the back of a consciousness

telling something

we are all too aware about

but just not able

to face

crashes

silent violent crashes

inevitable

in its own way

a condition for further growth

and yet

there has been done everything to avoid it

the solitary bird is still insisting

on singing the light in

whereas the rest of the world seems

to be preparing itself for sleep

sleeping towards full recovery

after cascades of silent crashes

there is always a blessing to be found

full moon

is always

a new beginning

of some sort

mild winds are embracing

days of golden autumn

developing its beauty

and deepening the caves of courage

dug into our hearts

allowing us to make it

through darkness

something is happening

nothing measurable for the bare eye

or any other measurement of science

but something is happening

and what is to be measured are

the consequences

subtle changes in the shifts of light

an unexpected kindness

a smile, from a face that seemed forever closed

a letter from someone, we did not knew, we know

something is happening

but the challenge with the immeasurable happenings is

that if we do not bring awareness to them

they will never occur

being late

is an unpleasant place to begin

even if being late

is only a sign

of being out of place

being out of place

is imposing an idea

of how things are supposed to be

without necessarily being able to

hear the sound of the ocean

smell the fragrance of the air

touch the earth beneath

and feel the heat of the sun

being late

is only to remind us of things to come

we are not yet able to see

and need to find space

to take them in