26-11

Do you speak the language of the rain?
If you do, please tell me what it’s saying.
Doesn’t it seem a little sad and melancholy today?
Does it also remember what happened on this day?

Are these raindrops but tears shed for those who were killed,
for the brave and innocent, our guardians and friends?
Do they wish to drown the heartless, who with hatred filled
the hearts of the gullible to achieve their ends?

Do these dark clouds seek to remind us of the terrible past?
Are they just passing through, or are they here to last?
Is the restless, rustling wind struggling to explain,
the solitude of sorrow and the pensiveness of pain?

Does the thunder talk of plunder?
Of cold blooded killings and surrender?
Of the destruction of timeless beauty and traditions,
Of meaningless hate and purposeless missions?

Does the Sun hide behind the clouds in shame
as we continue to blame the pawns in the game,
while the kings move around freely as before,
devising their devious machinations and more?

Will we remember this day only to forget?
Or will it remind us that there is hope, yet?
That bravery, courage and valor are not dead;
they are just soldiers waiting to be led.

– Sharan Rao

THE ROADS OF LIFE

Where do these roads come from?
Where do they go?
For on and on, like time, they flow.

Like a stream of water on an icy slope,
They bring with them both despair and hope.
They walk on, far ahead of sight,
Like the depths of darkness, and the light of night.

So follow the path till it reaches its end,
Don’t linger long trying to comprehend;
For everything you must surrender
Before entering that world of wonder;

Where the light of love caresses the ground,
Where greed and hatred are not to be found.
Where the wind breezes through the trees,
Where flowers dance to the humming of bees;
Where the angels of joy don’t need wings to fly,
Where you can’t stop smiling, even if you try.

Into that land these roads must go,
For on and on, like time, they flow.

– Written in 2005