duel against the rain

rain, light initially and grew heavy, fell for the longest time yesterday. entranced by the millions of silver blades piercing into my view and onto the asphalt through the huge window panes, i pounded on the treadmill with extra might, racing the rain to the ground, mocking those dying, vanishing millions - its death toll doubling every milli-second - as i emerged victor, again, again, and again. a survivor one in a million. my heavy gasps, drenching, dripping sweat, and a raging heart that fiercely threatened to shatter my ribs were like a trebled victoria cross deliciously decorated on the smiling curl of my lips; the sweet, wet aftertaste of conquest, resting on the lofty tip of my tongue.

i relished the glistening swordplay in my mind for a while afterwards; a duel against rain - but can it be won, ever? or was i merely deceiving myself.

the games we whimsically play.

stubborn raindrops in september are like merrily bewining amidst wounded, desperate soldiers in unthinkable pain and anguish, tightly clinging on for their dear souls, wondering what it would have been if their breaths really expired, wondering why they had come here so arduous and far, only to be thrusted there evanishing, praying for deliverance. and from what - life, or death? but we know, that they wouldve been better off departed. at least a tranquil smile could nestle, finally and to eternity, on those wretched, wrecked lives withdrawn.

the wars we frivolously wage.

when soldiers finally lie down, knowing they wont get up again, most of them smile. theres a comfort in falling asleep in the snow.