The Rain Has Its Ways: Nature, Philosophy, and Poetry

An experience on a rainy evening. Remember, language here circles to capture experience and thought and not create it. Contradictions hint at the expansive nature of experience.

I walked in the rain today,

A soft shower

as I make my way

down the deserted lanes.

The light drizzle

felt like standing under

a Cherry Blossom.

Leaves swayed,

Flowers fell

and no sound made.

But for the listeners quiet,

The rains make them listen 

to everything.

The strong petrichor

in the air

takes me not to moments of nostalgia

or to the future far in fathomable distance.

It roots me in the now.

The feeling of the now we don't

ourselves allow.

I am here

with the rope of hope I hold on to,

With the wearied pages,

Pages from the book of the past.

You are here

when the clock has collapsed

which is dear.

You are the seer of seasons,

The witness of night and day,

Under the twilight sky

the seer shows stars,

Far faraway.

Each blink

into the eye of the unknown.

I am the unknown

and so are you.

But 'you' and 'I' don't exist.

The unknown does.

It spreads its mist.

Icy water slips

beneath the soles of my feet.

I am water.

Water is me.

One we only are.

Like two we don't meet.

I am Nature's bairn

is what you say, Nature.

I don't quite agree.

Rumbling thunder is heard.

The sky isn't any angry.

Rather, it revels.

It celebrates that humans below

can realise that they are

earth.

The rains has its ways.

I see droplets of water rest.

On red leaves broad and narrow.

They have had a journey long

but far from sorrow.

I am your bairn

is what you say.

But now you know

I am not.

I have had a long journey.

I must return to the sky soon to flow.

To the unknown.

Gaurav Chandra Tuli