It comes from the sky
Sometimes in the dark night
When the soul cries out
For something more, in pure thirst
In a world where the wares
Become the weary burdens
We carry into the streets
Of harried madness
It wets us with a deeper desire,
With surges and gusts and swells
Of tides, it carries us away
Until sleep seems the only way
To escape this deluge
Of despair
Then in the silent morning
When the sun rises
We cease to weep
And the first kiss of warmth
Encircles us
Rain, pain, sadness is only for a moment and it must stop or come to an ending and that is what i got from this piece. What a great and marvelous write.
Fascinating, Ron. You describe the power of rainwater in a convincing way, and I love the way you end on a warm note, filled with renewal and affection.
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Christine
Gina
Love Tinka