Rain

Still it is not raining
Though sticky breeze
And darkening smokey sky
Give it all away.

Rain it shall!

In the distance the Salisbury Crags
Slope behind North Bridge and
Scotsman copper dome dotted pride.

Buses gliding left and right
Beyond expanse of trees,
Slowly, invisibly drained of nearly
All their many shades of green
Into the heart of earth,
Exposing now the naked
Flames of unraveling death.

The bustling cafe on the Mound
Jazz and blues play softly in the back.
A young couple's firstborn's
Eight weeks on this earth.
Her floppy bobbing body held
Secure on mother's arm.

All this should be more than enough for a day.
For an entire life.
To ponder from where we came
Where we are and where we're going.
To eventually conclude all concluding.
Unite the soul with earth and sky.

But it's not.

There's never an end to
New desires, deeper questions
Prompting riddled replies.

It's simple: I was born wise
And am progressively but surely
Breathing my way to deep ignorance

To die in ultimate stupidity.
Having fully tried consciously
To always struggle in what seemed
The opposite direction.

But wasn't.