Mystic Rain

A deluge pours this spring midnight.

    Green, yellow, red traffic lights

reflect in flooded storm drains,

    as red stoplights smear like bloodstains.

Inside, I read Hermes' ancient verses

    that elucidate how Divinity

becomes flesh, manifests universes.

    Nothing is revealed, but great mystery.

We seek knowledge and learn our ignorance.

    We live in a desert flooded with storms.

I watch streets pulse red fluid as rains dance,

    and asphalt bleeds where storm drain runoff forms.

Here, life is a mirage, an illusion.

    Blood, not water, is the sky's effusion.

Wide-awake at midnight, I am near sane,

    hearing rain rapping at my windowpane.

I return to quaint and curious verses

    of long forgotten lore, like ancient curses

written in codes of cryptic dialectics

    fathomed only by insomniac mystics.

Like the red stoplights, each verse holds my brain.

    Entranced upon endless red lights' reflections,

I accept bleeding streets like a transfusion

    that injects red floodwater from the storm drain.

Turning away from the storm's flooding curses,

    I return to decipher mystic Hermes,

meditate upon esoteric verses

    as rainfall quiets into night's tranquil peace.

Laura Muñoz-Larbig © 2014

  Bloodmoon © Apryl Skies