Morning rain
Starts from the midnight
And still knocking in my window
Those Straight upright glasses are wet
Wet like they never have been in years
In the winter
December is the deciding month
Of a year or a decaying sun
A new sun we are waiting for
Named it with year
Coined it with a date
We are nothing but the ritual
Our death to new born
And we die several times
And we live forever
We Wish!
To be free, to be born again
Like the sun now circling around
With the smile of a nirvana queen
Soon she will shine
We Hope!
Soon she may be he
Those attributes we put
And celebrate
We are nothing but our celebration

Life in the layer of meanings
Only the intuition
Slipping like the rain drops
In those straight upright glasses