Reaching For The Rain

Another Monday filtered in,
Enticing, and rapidly racing,
Like my weakened heart,
It’s come and gone;
Chores are done;
My spirit lies incomplete,
As sordid envy,
Enclosed in the refusal to forsake all others;
My heart still has a price to pay.

Then for a moment,
A brief breath away,
From the depths of seeming madness;
I gaze outside this window,
Framed. Alive. A beautiful barrier.
I see the rain…

Its raining again,
Pitter-patter raindrops,
Crashing gently against the dry, thirsty earth,
Crashing violently against my parched,weary soul;
The awareness of an endless storm raging within.

I’m on the inside,
And it’s still raining.
I see Love in the rain;
The labour of an unspoken grace;
The fortitude of being vested on the inside,
Sentenced by the power to resist.

I can feel the rain falling on me;
The freedom of residing in the inner courts;
Who’s to judge it’s worthiness?
As I navigate the threads of truth;
A limited pursuit;
Soul-less, drenched and dried.

Remain on the inside,
There where the rain still reaches;
Quite the words that intend to bring solace,
And clad the purer parts of you in a trench-coat;
Do not fear to tread upon,
The many colours of secret spaces
And stay silent in the midst of peace.

Come out of your hiding place,
Like the umbrella who brings
A yearned for freedom,
Under-written and undeserved;
And cover my vacant soul
Before it starts to rain again.

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