Sun Behind the Clouds

WHEN the sun is behind the clouds,

You shudder at the appalling pall of grumpy clouds;

You wail inconsolably in wilderness

If the sun should be this grave, callous and weak-willed.

You curse the sun and swear never to turn to its light

But all the while, the sun rests behind the clouds.

When the sun is behind the clouds

You befriend strangest elements

Overwhelmed with oblivion of the sun.

And the sun is reduced only to a mysterious legend, a distant decayed memory.

Then proudly snuffing the flame of erstwhile passion

You sing with pomp and set the sun on pyre;

You deem yourself a martyr and all your imposed ill-belief of the virtuous sun, a pride-filled martyrdom.

But all the while, the sun squats behind the clouds.

When the sun is behind the clouds

You stonily cut asunder the bond with Him

In a sheer denial that the clouds will ever shrink and recede;

You never believed in the sun and in His utmost scorching orb of passion…

Raise your brow and behold the sky once awhile—

The clouds would have parted in guilt

Then never veil your face in shame and snivel your remorse in sorrowful songs…

And never let your heart burn in pain.

If the sun’s heat is unendurably hot,

Let it burn your heart but in love…

As the sun behind the clouds who always burned for you