Poetry By, J. M. Lilin
I love the rain, he had said.
They thought he was peculiar, but they had underestimated his imagination.
He could get lost in dancing beneath the despairing clouds.
Creating those dreary days into the most beautiful time of the world.
Oh, the color blue – it is traveling in a gallery of sunsets and rises.
Rising up beneath those droplets of peaceful thoughts.
Hopes have fallen through those drops but when the sun rises, so does the dreams.
He is dancing again, dancing in the rain.
Watch as he disappears.
Disappears through the portal of curiosity.
Falling into that puddle and ending up in a different surface.
Oh, what a wonder that is.
How they wish they could join him, only, they would have to give away their sanity.
For being sane is giving way to being normal and normal does not have room for the daydreamers.
If only those crowds could see that it is him, it is those daydreamers, that witness the real spectacle.
A spectacle of wonder, a spectacle of transformation, a spectacle beneath the clouds.
Raining down a gallery of memories, raining down a gallery of worlds.
Creating puddles that lead to another world.
That difference surface that he oh so craves for.
Wish you could be there, beneath the curious clouds of the dreamers.
Wish you could be there, with the rain puddle spectacle.
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