And the rain falls on my skin.
Little droplets of golden and black.
Sparkling white in the bright moonlight.
As the hair on my neck falls slack.
The air of pretense has dissipated.
The voices echo with a faint chill of truth.
But behold, it isn't wry, but warm to feel.
Though emanating from throats hoarse and brute.
As one falls and spews a jet of foul jelly.
And we comfort him saying this is normal.
And the others continue with their revelations.
This one has lost no will in the battle for survival.
In the end, some are lost to the feather.
And some in their own pool of quagmire.
Some are lost in the smoke and some to someone else.
Yet we all are together, in this unforgettable moment.
As we sat and rejoiced unitedly and got lost, yet again
In one's, everybody's throaty, adoring yells.
PS. This post is dedicated to my dear friend, Suvan, for his amazingly witty poetry which left me spellbound tonight. And I remember that I wanted to write about it, so I did!