I Lived In The Blue,

After the Rain

Maybe we’re just waiting for the hope,

That lingers with the fresh scent of the rain,

But it’s so hard to cope,

With the desolations of ash,

Falling in flurries,

So seamless,

Gentle,

The marking of a new day,

In barren pain.

The rain,

Clear, faint droplets,

That make a resounding splatter,

Soaking the ashen ground,

Like a serenade,

The harmony of the wind,

The whispering leaves,

And the rippling rain,

A song so pure,

So graceful,

That overpower,

The stinging pain.

It seemed so lifeless,

Hopeless,

Useless,

When there was no sound,

Amidst the smokey haze,

Just the Earth in it’s silent stance,

Like time itself was in a trance,

When the first rain,

Hit the ground,

The skies crying out,

Their sorrow,

And the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Then, so strange,

There was a calm yet sudden change,

When the clouds bellowed,

Their last thunder,

And moved on,

The illumination of the sun,

Unseen for so long,

And if you listened,

Ever so carefully,

You could hear the soft singing,

From the birds beyond.

We drown ourselves in the illusion,

That we drive our lives,

Lost in our own confusion,

There are always secret knives.

We believe we're so wise,

Blinded by unknown lies,

Our destinies held hostage,

By the forbidding skies.

Though who's to say,

That we can have it our way?

The truth held at bay,

From clueless minds,

The changes so mere,

Only seen when we rewind.

Life is not driven by us,

Though we may think we're the biggest bus,

That destiny lies in our hands.

But if you opened up,

Realize,

We are afraid to admit,

That life was never lead,

By us.

Dead of Night by TheHen The darkening night, Sending chills down my spine, Where is the light? Along this endless line? Monsters and hollows, Awaiting around the corner, Every step could be, A mistake of never being free. Creeping, Weeping, I cry and walk alone, In the abyssal air, In the dead of night. Oh, I’m so afraid, My mind full of fear, I hope I survive, Through the dead of night. Ominous screaming, That rips through the setting sky, Who is there? In the forest of night? The wind howling, The waves crashing, The trees falling, This nightmare, Forever and ever, In the dead of night. The atmosphere, As cold as space, Though somehow, I’m still alive in this race. Blinded by the storms, I see nothing, Yet everything is in front of me, But there is no light to guide me. The stars, That were there, Have faded away from the skies above, Have been there, but nowhere, Now there is none to follow. The dead of night, Shadows everywhere, Death right there, It may be surging now, But it will come to an end, With a message to send. There is silence, After years of pain, Of darkness and rain. The cyclone’s still raging, But I’ve gone through, Pushed the waters, Behind me. I’m still not free, With the dead of night, Right at my heels, I keep going, Keep running, Before I get swallowed, By the haunting hollows. The dead of night, Screaming or silent, Taunting or calming, It’s how you see, The night’s key, To being free, From the dead of night.

This is not a quote, rather a poem. I hope you enjoy it or rather enjoyed it. :)

I remember the day, when I opened the door,

And I looked upon a cat, upon the soaked floor,

It’s abyssal fur frizzled, the color of midnight,

The yellow eyes, with a tint of light,

Stared at me, with unknown resilience,

Testing me for something that I ought to know,

Yet, suddenly it began to snow,

Flurries, soft, and gentle,

And when they smothered the night,

It blanketed the cat,

Who plodded inside,

Who had the slyest smile,

Who came to my legs, and leaned its head,

The purring ever so slightly,

The little paws gripping on tightly,

The stray cat, so calm, so warm,

Its breathing body strong amidst the cold,

And it fell asleep within my home.

I wonder why I see a fire,

Burning in the water.

Swallow's Dance

The azure, gentle swallow,

Perched on its branch,

The leaves that rustle and whisper,

Accompanying the twitters and chirps,

The beautiful melody gliding through,

The seams of the windows,

Mesmerizing in its trance.

Then the wind blew,

As the leaves chattered,

The tree strong, unwilling to bow,

To the relentless storm,

Protecting the swallow,

Who hid among the branches,

Feeble and silent.

No songs float through the air,

Though the rain takes its place,

Splitter, Splatter,

A collective rhythm,

Amplified by the wind’s howl,

And the bustling of the leaves.

As the swallow slept soundly,

Through the lullaby of the rain,

It awoke at the crack of dawn,

Ruffled its feathers,

Then took flight in its wake,

A magnificent sight as its slender body,

And the long waving tail,

Glided above the skies,

The feathers fluttering,

Sweeping the air with it,

The dance and the song,

A sign of life, harmonious nature,

A beauty to behold,

A swallow’s stance,

And its remarkable dance.

Would piercing one's heart with an arrow,

Be any different than with words?

Is it not the same,

If I break your heart,

Since you broke mine?

It was nothing but,

Shadow's breeze,

That hung above our heads,

In sheer of time's freeze,

Crept along the slanted walls,

Till' it threw its storm,

There was a silent crawl,

Then a raging brawl.

Life

We're always lost cats,

Playing our torturous lives,

Chasing on life's tail.