Meaning of Life

Trying to find a meaning

In my life some great

Existential reasons to

Exist or exit

God, the environment or

At least some meaningful

Work experience

But since it is raining

And the weather is quite cold

I wait until tomorrow

The No Love City

I travel through the gray

City of no love

Greed and need built this town

Work and fear kept this place

For the power of the king by the grace of God

It Forced the people together

Poverty and starvation

Misery and the will to work

And here we are in the

Big gray city

Where love has died

Still it is very pretty

A honey trap for

The fly

Falling Rain

Rain keeps falling

And falling eternal

Falling of the rain

Life is filled with

Moments like this

Summer rain keeps

Falling and falling

A bliss for the dry

Land to recover

Perspective

Midlife is a sad place

In the middle of

Becoming and dying

With both ends clearly

Visible

Not being able to change

The obvious direction of things

The option of

Growing your garden

While waiting for the house

To catch fire

While the rain keeps falling

Is not a bad idea

Gray Summer Sky

The relentless rain

Eternal and life giving

Will fall for 24 hours and

Returning the island to normality

Emptying it quickly from

Holiday makers and alike

Creating a silence only broken by

The rhythmic sound of rain

Falling on a corrugated roof

Communicating something or

Nothing in it’s hidden pattern

Bleaching the illusion of

Progress and meaning

The winter kept us warm

So that the summer

Would makes us wet and cold

Soon the summer will be over

Only the bitter rain remains

Whatever season

Falling

Throughout the millenniums

Copyright Schibolet

Spring In November

Rainy days in the city

No end in sight

The rain is

Making the soil

Fertile and full of life

A sentry letter in the gutter

The streets filled with water

And people with umbrellas

Hiding away from the

Relentless rain

Stony Roads

Travel without any aim or reason

Walking outside in the rain

Mile after mile

On stony roads from dawn to dusk

My feet’s are sour and the stench intense

The backpack heavy and the mind like a

Broken record

Still fighting on,

For the few moments of solitude