Nature's Language

It talks to us with the impeccable thing

Which is a genesis of communication, the feeling

It generates the feeling by the music it has,

By the rhythm it has, by its instruments I guess

 

A drop in my palm, the beauty of the rain,

A drop on my head, the heat, the pain

A rise of the orange, the hope of a better day,

A looming of the black, the despair of making hay

 

A breeze during a walk, the softening of the worries

A silence before its anger, a metaphor to breakdown of glories

A red circle between the blues, a pleasure’s abyss and tranquility’s crevasse

A wind in the solitary sands, the subtlety of lonely happiness

 

The steady gleaming of twinkles above, the exquisiteness of childhood bliss

The overflow of its seasonal changing moods, adversity escorted by devil’s kiss

The magnanimity of its forgiveness, the reason for survival of its dependants

The timely display of its fury, reminding us of being forever its tenants

 

The fall of water on water, benevolence of selfless giving and grateful receiving

The effect of clashing clouds, same to a relation can do a misunderstanding

The liking of its flowers and colours, a sign of falling in love

The detecting of thorns in the roses, a sign of falling due to love

 

It talks to us as does every being to a being

Which is a requisite of a thing which is living

It aids us in everything, even in finding destiny’s address

It is our guide, friend, parent, God or whatever you guess.