The Coming and Going of the Rain

While the sky was crying, a poet was sitting,

Keeping the window open to watch the wonder of the rain;

All of a sudden he started wondering

About the coming and going of the rain,

And his pen rushed to a sheet and said,

We are all like the drops of rain,

Prisoners of the cloud,

Sent into exile to examine some flavour,

And discover what we are.  

And, being heated in the sun-burning pot

And shot by the gun of time,

Again we are to return to the realm of the cloud.   

Then the writing of the pen he anxiously saw,

And the pen said, ‘Nothing to worry, this is the law’.