Ever find something, folded, tattered in a book or scroll through old writings thoughts you had saved...Only to realize you had written it? This struck a chord with me tonight. Not sure why...well, that's a bit of an ommission. There are many reasons why, just I don't feel like sharing it right now. Nah....
Onward:
She stood at the door,
leaning back
against the jam.
Her eyes
trace, as
Water spit and spattered
onto the glass.
Pupils wide
following as droplets
skid
down, the smooth surface.
Her eyes swollen
tired
and fixed.
As were my feet
my voice.
I stood
watching
her long gazes,
endlessly lost
Out into the world.
Her face smattered
wet. Her
tears
trickled,
no
they eased over the bones
of her face.
Sliding down
to her neck.
No sounds.
No utterances
from her throat.
Isolation of her mind.
The rain pelted
harder.
smacking the pane.
Her stare
her pain
her heart
her tears.
Her lips, softly moved.
"When will the rain stop?"
"When you would
choose it to,
I suppose.", My reply.
The rain will cleanse
the void in your soul.
free you of those chains
the bindings, holding you
now.
The rain will then,
fill you again
with the purest
of love.
Of truth.
The rain never ceases.
It goes on.
Forever channeling
etching
Pieces of us.
When a piece wears too
thin,
and breaks free
The rain washes
it away.
Sweeping it down
the elongated
moving puddles.
Emptying out
Into the Abyss.
Grieving
this loss.
Countless
Amongst our
many.
We free ourselves.
So, you see,
The rain will not cease
because we say it shall.
It moves.
It falls.
One day, pouring
Another
drizzle.
Always bathing
A new
Replenishing.
Shed your tears
My dear dear friend.
Liberate yourself.
Let the Rain
be.
Let it be.
