Such a Beautiful Creation

I took a walk in a white storm.

Your name was written in the blue rain.
The syllables were spoken by the red thunder.
In each raindrop I saw your picture — I took some to
put in my coat pocket
— to hang in my room.
And in a few puddles I saw you walking
in others I saw you talking,
in some I saw you sleeping,
in some I saw you smiling.

The raindrops that fell on the leaves
sounded like fingers on a guitar,
the raindrops that fell on the ground
sounded like fingers on a piano,
and the raindrops that got entrapped — in the wind
— sang
with the sweet melody and tender harmony
of a flute.
At that moment life was the echo
of beautiful creations.

It began raining harder,
until the puddles broke into streams,
all the scenes began flowing together,
each image was a shimmer in the river
of beauty.

The river of beauty.

That day I decided the greatest way to enrich my life
was with your life . . . .
Such a beautiful creation.

Every summer
I cried and bled by the river
to keep the river rushing.
Eventually, I died by the river
listening to the lullaby
of the calming waters . . . .

Such a beautiful creation.

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