The rain, incessant and irritating
Wetting him to the soul
Monday, funny Monday
Began and ended
Like a rag wet with petrol
But never lit
It could have been
Another day in eternity
But something stirred
Beneath the eyelids
Ask the lonely, pleaded the four tops
They know the hurt and pain
The pain of being
In the likeness of a rag
Drenched with petrol
On the verge of igniting
But the rain, the rain
Held everything in its grasp
Lock jawed onto reality
Nothing could be released
Not his soul, not his mind and not his love
A beautiful ethereal creature
Like a butterfly caught in the rain
Ubud 21.09.2009
marculyseas 