It’s in the air, you know,
Hovering like a shadow:
Dark and deep as a Monsoon cloud
Bursting like thunder, aloud.

It gathers like an evil omen,
Glints in every drop of rain;
Concealed in a tender leaf;
Sneaking across like a thief.

It’s in failures, oppressive;
In our choices, impulsive;
It’s in the first break of dawn;
In the sky when the sun is gone.

It’s in the stillness of the wind,
Aimless drifting of intent;
In this poem, ‘tween the lines
You can find it, and its signs.