I worked hard on this one; it's about the cycle of natural revolution.


Revolution

A flight of raindrops come flying down from the sky,
Thinking of their path to travel and asking, "Why?"
"Why keep falling down towards this grey earth to die?"
Until one daring drop says, "I'll not comply, nor conform."
Until this daring drop decides it would rather form ice.

A speck of dust is its spark of fire.
And with this dust does this drop conspire.
"I'll use this spark, fulfill my desire"
Other drops regard this ice as sire.
And now these drops wish to catch this pyr-
They wish to be ice and, too, conspire.

And now this ice, soaring through the sky
Thinks yet again, "Oh, why do we fly?"
"Why attack this green earth and comply?"
"Why fall at all? Why not stay up high?"
And with that notion one thoughtful ice does act.
He turns to vapor, no longer so compact.

Now unrestrained he is so free.
He looms about, as if to be
And nothing else. He simply is.
And now these ice look up and see
"This vapor floats, so free is he
Who once was ice, we now envy"
They follow lead and cease to be
The callous ice of old country.

And once again, bored of their state
These vapors drift and contemplate
"What should we do? We are so free"
"Why do we hover, lacking glee?"

Then all these drops, they do realize their company.
It should comprise itself of what these beings truly are.
Whether it be drops, or ice, or vapor.
And all day and night should these beings soar.
They are themselves. No less. No more.




Poetry by Ammad Khokar
Read 387 times
Written on 2009-09-26 at 21:59

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