The wind once more smells of the distant sea,
as last night’s petrichor bemoaned a hazy dream.
In that dream I saw palaces succumb
to the inevitable beats of time’s ancient drums,
almost like a metaphor of my life,
churning white foam in the throes of a foolish strife!
For the rain I throw my windows ajar
and let the cascading drops trace my benumbed skin,
it never fails to make me remember
those monsoon days when I was alive with a dream!
Is that the wind’s groan I hear all around
or my heart’s refusal to accept destiny?
How much do I owe my life to that sound,
I must know for once and all to set myself free!