Salieri's Revocation

This morning there is fog, it settles on the window and rolls down: drip, drip, drop, and so spills out a melancholy thought: perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, 'There is no God'. - During mourning, a grander purpose would have given strength, but the day bleeds on, and you decay. - And I, Salieri, like this fog do drop, from grace the final curtain, the final gate. So come, come, the rain, streaming down the face like tears, do choke away the pain, for l'm not with God, not today.