Title yet to come

The rain comes with
all elements of silence
and music,
intact.

After the downpour,
a frog snores
somewhere in the distance,
a lone sound in the silence.

These are strange hours.
But still, there is a thread.
between the rains and sun,
between mornings and evenings.

between dusks and dawns.
I hang by it.
It tries to slip away,
I still hang by it.

Someone lights a candle
in the hut, far away from here.
Its flame blinds me,
in the darkness.

I still hang by it.
The thread has made
deep impressions in my skin.
I still hang by it.