I Do Not Wait in the Rain

I Do Not Wait in the Rain

I stand in the rain, clutching a flower.

The rain falls hard.

And then, I leave this place.

Murmuring, “So this is what they call fate,”

while the petals become the audience

to this unceremonious curtain fall.

Many romantic princesses will lose themselves

in their own sentimentality.

Even when the petals scatter, even as time passes,

they still wish,

“May I one day meet the sea and the sun.”

Listen.

The stars never wait for the moon.

They do not shine together.

The moon only reflects the sun’s light.

It has no will of its own.

It is nothing more than a lump of iron, sand, and stone.

Whoever first said “they shine together”

was surely a poet

unfit for both love and war.

You are gone. That’s all.

For a while, it hurts. I admit that.

But heartbreak is like the flu.

When you catch it, it feels fatal,

but give it a month,

and you’ll find your heart stirred again

by the smile of a pretty woman at the bank counter.

That is both the salvation and the ugliness of being human.

Beyond love, there is no despair.

There is only the certainty of tomorrow.

As one catches a cold, rests, and recovers,

so love begins, ends, and fades away.

It is merely a law of nature.

No temple holds a truth greater than this.

If, like me, the one you waited for never came,

then I recommend you simply walk away.

I wait in the rain.

I breathe through the pain.

For a fleeting glance,

a single word,

a mark that remains upon the heart.

Even if it never bears fruit, it’s fine.

I wait,

with tenderness in my chest,

pen in hand,

just here.

But never, ever should you think such things.

When you stop midway on the path to the future,

you gain nothing.

It’s like trying to stop a bowel movement halfway.

You’d feel so much better if you just let it out.

Stopping it halfway is a painful skill,

and even if you master it,

it’s rarely of any use.

So let it all out, and be free.

I do not wait in the rain.