Morning Sun Midnight Rain

Every morning, I open the curtain
Hoping for some sun to pour in
Some days, I get a shining radiance
That gives a majestic illusion of permanance
Only to have it take a break
Almost exactly the very next day
When the clouds roll in and the rain pours down
Thunder roars, lightning flashes all around
It showers the city with acid and carbon
Melting away concrete that took weeks to harden
I watch as the city slowly fades
Into the sillhouette that was once my escape
A place containing many a memory
That I’ve recorded in ink and written down as history
Awaiting in silence for the sun
To sing its song of frivol and fun
To dry up the gloom of humid rain
To illuminate the paths that few dare to take
To warm the frozen hearts that roam
Around this street without a soul
To shed some light on the lack of humanity
That takes place in this atrocity of a city
Maybe the sun will shine again
Well, it will… but who knows when…

MG

It

It can be the most beautiful spectrum of life, the most colourful aspect of every silhouette.

It can be the most devastating pain, the most stabbing of truths unraveled at the speed of light.

It can be the most thrilling ride, filled with highs and lows, ups and downs, resets and continuation.

It can be the most exhilarating of encounters, an array of mutually experienced chemical changes.

It can be the steadiest and slowest of growths, a conservative one that serves to conserve, to preserve the beauty that is already in existence.

It can be the most rapid of changes, a liberation of sorts, roaming freely around each other, dancing daffodils in the wind.

It can be the most excruciating of moments, an essence of a droplet magnified into a concoction of patterns, of repetition, of spirals and depth.

It can be the most fleeting of frivolous fun, a joyous joviality jeering in the most “banterous” of manners.

It can be each and every reflection of who you were, are, and have yet to be.

It can be honest.

It can be deceptive.

It can be perceptive.

It can be receptive.

But if it is not reciprocated, it is non-existent.

That, is what sets it apart from love — Love can exist without reciprocation.

“It”, however, cannot.

“It”…

 

 

…is friendship.

MG