before the birth of the moon

three secret songs..
without a name they are playing..
playing with my unfolded past..
its the time to leave the past become a past..
retelling stories in different words..
hours I spend talking to my heart..
Comforting his bleeding pain..
dont be sad the good days are coming ..
I believed in a lucky july..
and a powerful Jupiter..
but all my days are the same now..
I cant even feel the happiness when am happy..
blank feelings are drowning me..
drowning me in a mysterious ocean..
now.. here ,. I can hear the sound of thunder..
its a sign of mercy .. and rain..
staring out ,. everything is crying..
the trees,. clouds and the walls..
I stood there crying too..
this rain without mercy agitated everything in me..
days without endings .. unclosed books.. a screaming tragedy ..
in the very early age ..
before the birth of the moon..
the rain used to indicates an ending and a new start..
Harvesting millions of souls..
and giving others new ones..
now while its raining..
is it going to be my ending, or my new start..