Rain

On any other day
I would have danced in the rain,
barefoot
and you would have seen how my love for rains is like Gogh’s love for yellow.
But tonight,
I’m held captive in a cavern of the black wilderness of my mind
and all I can think about is
how the clouds are eating away a night
that till yesterday,
was starry.

Still, I try tapping my feet to the pitter-patters
(Icarus too, tried crawling out of the sea after his fall)
but the sound of thunder
thrusts me back in my mind
where I've already lost battles
that haven’t yet started.

I close my eyes in surrender
and drops
flow down my elbow like fading rivulets
(When does a raindrop finally accept its falling?)
as my mind roils into a mud
that will soon devour me like
I am the only meal it sees…