The skies rained relief,
Forgiving as they are.
The asphalt soaked the water,
Not still overflowing with it.
Meaningless vehicles plied,
En-route their meaningless lives.
The soaked asphalt, though,
Captured their beauty well.
Enthralled, I gazed,
At these reflections, I’d never noticed before.
Skeptical I was, of this becoming an addiction.
But in those moments, a man knows no control.
In some time, the water levels rose.
Disfigured images, were all that was left.
Maybe, everything in life,
Looks more beautiful through some kind of a lens.
But excess of any illusion,
Ruins the magic it is supposed to be.
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