rainy reflections

Shall we not rejoice that another day has passed.The glimmer in the distant star that's fading in front of my drowsy eyes make the approaching daylight more poignant,more mysterious.Speechless,I often wonder,are the hours before the daybreak--heralding a day filled with activity and choatic murkiness.Not every silence is so beautiful.I wonder why.Maybe the stars that are dying as the arrogant sun raises his powerful head in the horizon,are singing a sweet melodious tune.The fading moon orchestrates a requiem.There is a subdude vibrancy in this hour.Death of another day,and the birth of a new one.The cycle is neverending.The small raindrops are the tears which the clouds shed.Too heavy their hearts with the infinite melancholy of the turgid earthlings.Amidst the little droplets that flock to the glass of my window,obscuring my complete view..I witness my own face.The little droplets seem to be my own tears as I stare blankly at the glass.it's a face unadorned with emotions,a tired face is what I see.And I tremble with fear in my innermost depths.The tip of the ciggarate looks so alive in the glass reflection.A small fire reminicent of the fire that glows in me.A small fire which is slowly consuming the thin package in which it burns.The ash falls.The glass window is too crowded with the tiny droplets now.I can't see my own reflection anymore.There is a silent drop which just fell on my hand.I am startled.It came from my eye.