|The rain song
By vandana934 on 07/18/2011
Beneath the sands of time we lay buried,
No nightingale shall sing our song,
Nor bards serenade in our name,
Distant travellers shall soon forget tales they may have carried.
The Wild wind blows away the sand upon our graves,
We lay silent, forgotten,
There yet is,
Our tale to be told….
The winds carry us,
Fire, Rage ,Pain…
O , wild wind, would you destroy us??
And yet the gentle clouds stroke us,
They would help tell our tale…..
And as the essence of the first rain falls,
(and ever so beautiful you are, oh dawn)
Our tale is being told,
The dew, the pollen, the leaves,
They hear not our story,
they hear hope,
Hope for what our tale could be….
And who could have known,
how the butterfly flaps her wings,
and yet she spins a web,
she weaves a new story,
she tells our tale….
A tale with a promise,
the hope for a new one….
© By vandana934 On 7/18/2011 1:53:44 PM