Pieces
Rain
Is but fragments of our stories,
Washing unto us
To remind us that all is forgiven
Every fleeting moment is like the dust that breaks off of our skins — irreconcilable particles that drift from light into darkness, hidden from our sight and consciousness forever. Irreversible particles from our past, blown off of our skins by the draught of our future — lost in time and space.
But sometimes, in the light
When time is paused
You can see them float,
Like repercussions of words
Spoken in haste
Like breath on our mirrors,
That has just been expelled.
But they are never gone. Like the consequences of our actions, like the price of our words. Our dust surrounds us, like the beast of our burdens — hidden from plain sight, by the darkness of our present. Forgotten and buried, by the weights of our grantedness.
When it rains,
You can feel our stories again,
Between the beatings of your heart,
Our bits and pieces
Lost fragments of our past
Like wet sand caught in our fingernails
Our fragments, paused in our stillnesses, are washed down upon us. Like deja vu, you are reminded of possibilities that you could have explored, parallel worlds created out of millions of time streams, had you acted differently. They are like the windows on a fast moving train, bursts and glimpses of our alternatives that fly by us, each granting us a peek into what could have been us. A semblance of a balm, that heals the scarring on our hearts.
And when you are drenched,
And the rain has stopped
The wind that cleanses your sinking heart,
Is but the forgiveness of our past
The cleansing of our slates and our first steps into our futures.
Our fleeting, temporal hearts, forgiven with the lifting of our weights.
© Showmock Ghosh 2019
