Work as hard as you can.
The mystery around the rain
And the news channel buzz on the storm
Does not get to your dormant mind.
The reason for the rain,
The cause of the storm,
Stay at distances far from your yielding.
It’s as if someone with a keyboard
Gives the commands.
When someone types a little more
It rains a little more.
When someone types a little less
It rains a little less.
Backspace, enter, alt, control.
Who controls?
You check all those weather patterns
That your teachers taught you at school.
They won’t fit in.
Only you fit in.
Perfect with your branded-looking
Raincoat.
None of those weather charts
Would come as close
To the present phenomenon as
My keyboard- theory could.
The reverie from our daytime life
Is at the end of the dark tunnel
That’s in our nightmares.
But our spaceships must be ready, mustn’t they?
To escape into another habitable world.
Then we are all
Oh, very fine.