Petrichor

a poem

the humidity gives everything a dull edge,
the world strangely reversed
I can face it now,
see more clearly…
does the sun shine brighter
when it reveals itself from the gray clouds?

the rain washes everything away
formless shapes of nameless regrets,
husks of remorse and sorrow
melting away with the downpour
do I live in an upside-down world?

someone else’s tears slide down
cold on my face
they make the whole world riot
and they make the ground sing

the raindrops fill my umbrella,
cast away and half-forgotten
(I will retrieve it hence, in an opposite reality)
the sun rays stream through,
magic at my fingers
a wondrous trick of the light

let the world not flip back
let the strange things dazzle and blind
for an eternity longer
I like it here, where everything makes sense

must we always abide by the rules
and spin around endlessly
on this swiftly tilting planet?

but the world always rights itself
and I am left
with nothing but a faint memento
of petrichor

petrichor /ˈpetrīˌkôr/ noun a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather