Scavenging of Storm and Spirit

Pass upon me thus in silent rain a frequent silver blush in dripping tears silent to ignite, repeat, refrain as washing pools of silent, silver years mounted in the wells and darkest pain a swelling of an aquifer of fears mourning silk to lap and leave it's stain while holding all the thunder in arrears storm of soul and spirit thus to wane upon the passerby's to look, endear rivers bent on sorrow to attain to swallow now, in haste, and hold quite near.