A small poem I had written. It was meant to go with this drawing:

The dance of the dragons,
The rain and the sea.
Leaves you heart no naggins’,
Never has it been set so free.

The sea with its monstrous waves,
Crashing on a lightning lit night,
Rise the dead from their graves,
To witness the tempest bright.

Mortals hide from a thing so perfect,
Fearing for their petty lives.
But those who view know the magic, and get-
Purification of the elements five.

The sky is dark, blacker than ebony,
The wind a furious gale.
The land, bottom of this hierarchy,
Cowers, broken and pale.

The rain falls so hard, that even
Sturdy trees seem like toys.
Such felling inexprissible by a bard, given-
The rains’ inner joys.

A sight to forever behold it is,
And keep in your heart evermore.
The beauty of the Creation lies in it,
And the beginning of folklore.

A few months every year,
Do the dragons entwine,
Striking in our hearts fear.
Bring destruction in their love-filled haze,
To Mumbai, the city of dreams’ dreamy maze.