Rohit Nalluri

Every year when it rains it pours, and
Every year we wonder if we've ever
Seen rains like these before.
Every year we ask what's causing this luxurious
Spell of rain, if the rivers are flooding, if the parched earth is drinking, if the dams are overflowing
With this bounty.
Every year we hope that everyone everywhere is being replenished, or at the least, that the bounty of here is shared with everyone everywhere.

A delicious thing to do in life 
is to go to sleep when the sky is dry 
And awaken to a rainy morning, 
To rub the sleep away from your eyes and
hug the blanket while 
You wonder
What kind of cloud can rain all night?
To wonder
What happens to a rained out cloud,
does it die or disappear, and
To wonder
what happens to it when it dies -
what is the next level of impermanence
for something already pretty impermanent
(What is the ghost of a wisp of a cloud)?

But a ghost is a human concept.
It is us who want to cling on,
Even if we're reduced to a mere ghost,
Even if we're reduced to a shade, while
Other things become other things, while
Clouds become rain,
We want to remain like a stubborn stain,
On the presumption and fear of pain.