storm

Rain spills down my forehead, like tears

As the sunlight hides beneath a blanket of clouds, shielding its face from the broken world.

There, upon the grass, I shiver and run, clutching at a sodden bag of coins, and at my hope, slowly slipping away—

Hope, no more than a glimmer from a sun hidden behind a storm.

-

Over field after field in the heavy drizzle; they are all the same misty green

Flowers bow in the wake of the descending dewdrops

-

Till when? I have nowhere to go, no place in which to hide my head from the scented rainfall.

Has the road come to an end? Why hope, why hope when I am only an unwanted child?

Each step—a little slower, a little more indecisive in the pools of mud, in the damp coldness.

-

Keeping my bag of seven gold coins close, I hurry on

Under the endless pounding of heaven's tears

Towards the horizon, in a direction I hope will take me to safety—

Or towards the edge of the plains, and of my life?

Life has never taken me on such an uncertain path…

And all I can do now is to pray to the spirits, and

Hope for light. When will this storm end?