Fountain head, a spring...

Some springs
Are  fountain head like,
As if forever young
And in Love...
As if songs there happen spontaneous
A running stream of a birth...
As if traveling songy to the unsung heart
Before songs there would by time tiny emerge...
Like hummed forever
As if a flow of a glistening river
Within filling all gaps, spaces, left abandoned
Like rhymes learnt young
And forgotten by experience,
Hard...

Some rains are like that
As if monsoony tunes running flat
For few kilometres
Before they suitably
Become rivery...
As if the icicles melting
Within never seen
Yet like Seen always
With eyes closing in
Closed...

As if by providence...
By His grace
So calm
As if a birth of a Face...
A birth
Of fountain head...
Springy songy
So monsoony...
Dio te salve kind...