Rains
Pounding are the heavy rains
Sweeping the hills and the plains
Some have faith that it washes the stains
Of man's sin in its many strains
Some hide their tears in the rains
But the heartache and pain remains
It's not liquid enough to dilute solid chains
It's too liquid to be the oil that ordains
Come sunshines come rains
The discontent man still complains
But one founded on the Rock has great grains
For he well bears and restrains
K. Muitherero.
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