when it rains......

through the ivory blinking light that peeks through the leaves of ashok, I sit beneath the calming shadows, meditating like listening to a shlok, withered down to my bare bones, my psyche was burdened with menial chores, it takes a day to rest, to play to make the most of life and lay, a week of persuasion, a week of toil, a life of work, a hardened soil, it takes some water, the stuff of life, to grow to nurture away from strife to those who deny that day to them, a curse is set upon that lonesome, it stalks silently and takes you away, the pot of burden will fill someday, you will live a little longer, if you live each day, let the deluge wash you away. when it rains on a sunday