Monsoon Raga Poem

raga    rain   cool  air blowing in the window….

notes as uncertain as whether the rain will come…

what will come?   clouds    wind   uncertainty…

going into the shop, the bell rings, but there is

a stillness...a whiff of museum…the creak of 

ancient time….

the world ends now…we assumed it was always 

here…never thought it would end…it won’t… we will…

“no coke today” as the thunder gets louder, the 

clouds lower…still can’t be sure when, or, how much….

soon, man, soon…

My house is made of concrete…

it will take some time to wash away…

longer than my life….but the rain

has been coming the longest…

it owns time.

I pause the music and fix a drink

in real time.

The music, like the rain, is all time….

slice time at any point, and you get 

rain and music….

that’s why they tried to listen to 

the spheres, their songs, celestial 

sirens beaconing into space…the

same space between drops of rain

notes of music, where it all really

happens.