Poem Written on a Rainy Day

Walking in the rain is like being able
to go through walls of solid rock, unspotted,
undisturbed, a witness to all miseries, to all joys.
I love rain, the melodious fall of microscopic drops;
the city is no longer the same,
rain washes its noises away,
its fierce ugliness, its manic rush.

Reading, I love reading.
I read when I'm happy, when I'm miserable,
when I lose, when I succeed.
I read when I love and when I hate: I'm not a man who lives
but a man who reads.
I read my heart, my liver, my lungs, my hands, my bones.

And I love writing, writing about you, about them, about us,
writing about life and about death,
about dreams, about hopes, about frustrations.
I love writing about what we know and never say.

I love all this, and more,
things I have known, things I have not known,
and even things I will never know.