The sound of the first monsoon cascade-
through the clouds warring,
on the tinned roof,the metal window ledges,
the glass pane and the path just outside my window-
cleaning,clearing the windshields of my dusty memories
painful yet warm
luring me back to the time
which does not exist anymore.
Momentary flashes of light,thundering clouds grand,
pregnant with memories-
overflowing,pushing,shovelling,demanding presence in my today.
When I have settled the matter with me
I sit back to watch and celebrate the play of the nature -
the colour,the vigour,the flashes of energy
from a distance-
a mere spectator watching the beauty of creation in it's passionate tyrst.