It was not the rain of the forest
Not of the sweltering hillocks or valleys
Not of the strange plain grey clouds floated
Beneath a nonchalant silent sky
It rained like a sudden shudder, a jolt
All heard aloud, along the fiery outburst
Breaking walls of illusion and vision..
It was the rain of the heart
Not seasonal not expected
It was the rain of the heart
All frozen and unheard, from within
It rained of storms and stones
From within and from somewhere far
Of the dreams or of the branch of a tree
Perhaps of a shadow that measured all wrong
It rained heavy with a thud and bang
As if it is destiny, rhythmless,
For a while speechless, then played
Cancan, or dance of the flamingos
It rained after a settling track
All on a sudden, unexpected
Not seasoned yet seasonal
Frozen in hagolstān magic.