Sailing Through.

Blank and simmering blue sky,
That reddens the beads of sweat on my head,
And the smothering hot tires of my bike,
Roll over the melting tar, fuming,
I face the sun that interrogates with an anguish,
With a gaping wide open mouth,
What had I made of my life?

With the screaming screech, my bike halts,
To feast at the beauty of the grey overcast,
And to quench the thirst of my elated soul,
With the heavy downpour of the God’s blessings,
With burns and bruises of the past healed and omitted,
I ponder and realize with the vanishing pains,
Summers have to be sailed through to melt in the rains.