At times,
during the dark hours
and rainy days
I forget to sing.
Lost I am,
reflecting at the crystal drops
disappearing at the edge of the
muddy
soil.
I forget to sing.
Uncertain encounters with the dwellers
of clouds, makes me homesick-
sitting at the window sill
of a house of humans.
I forget to sing.
Rain is of my kind.
Slit, sharp and spirited.
It has its own melody
and it is not afraid to
vanish.
Neither am I.
I return to myself
from the crowds of many
like the song- heard,
sung, embraced, gifted,
forgotten, trampled over,
crushed,
and discarded at the
back of the storeroom.
I return to myself
broken, wrapped,
and beautiful
But more powerful
than ever
beforeтАж
I forget to sing.
But I return to myself.
Thank You ЁЯЩВ
