Private Thoughts pt. 1

When I die it will rain for seven days so even the heavens can mourn me.

God’s tears will wet my grave and all will know His sadness.

Droplets, warm and fat will glisten on leaves, drenching the trees in sorrow. The forests will weep.

Much of it will fall into the ocean; too many drops to cause a single splash, but enough to let the sea know tragedy, the waves will roll in despair.

A storm will brew, the sky angry at my death. The stars will hide behind the darkened clouds, shameful of their own tears. The wind will moan, keening its loss to the symphonies of nature.

My death will be a thing of poetry, tragic and too soon. A love story whispered in the wind, kissing the shore as it drifts.

My death will be worthy of Keats. Only when remembered words from long forgotten poetry speak will the world cease to cry.

Blow, west-wind, by the lonely mound,

And murmur, summer-streams–

There is no need of other sound

To soothe my lady’s dreams..

When I die, it will rain for seven days. The heavens will mourn me.

no_rain_____by_brandedexplorer

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s