-Torrential Rains-
In the mild, mellow maturity of age,
The gray skies
darken with each swarthy passing cloudly day,
Washing away all traces of a young boy’s euphoric play.
As memories started to flood his mind,
Then drown all childlike thoughts away like a raging river
It washed away a child’s childhood,
Leaving him with only a convulsive icy shiver,
Drenching him in immense sorrow
& soaking him in recurrent pain.
The winds commenced into high frolic,
& Intense grief poured out of his drifting eyes like
-Torrential Rains-
Thumping on the rooftop of a young man’s frail heart,
The atrocious end has laid its claim.
Soon,
The aesthetic consciousness will start.
Until then,
He travels the thrall of destruction
On the reflection of his name and childhood days,
What inevitably followed is what unquestionably came.
Dismay with coming of age,
A faze the young man had no choice but to undergo.
Externally,
After the heavy torrents of rain
Wash away the soils of birth,
Internally,
There was a tremendous hurricane.
As His memories rushed back and forth,
Found and tossed, lost in commotion,
He lay inert in disbelief,
In a torrent of his unstable emotions,
Trying to make sense of the world
That has torn him in half and torn those halves apart.
This unpredictable storm contained the pith
Of all his scathing tears and weakened rampart.
Now,
It reflects on the turmoil within his soul and mind,
Still,
It lays heavy on a young, frail heart.
In the end,
Consciousness is all there is that will remain.
Yet,
As a Man, He's hoping that one sweet day,
Never-ending peace, alongside stability
& maybe even a lifetime's worth of rest,
He’ll Somehow, Someway, Regain.
A symphony amidst His Life,
Where the harmless beginning
comes to a violent end,
Then Life sends
-Torrential Rains-







© Tristian L.F. Ford