There Is Something Profoundly Sad About the Rain
there is something profoundly sad about the rain.
perhaps it is the cold.
cold that makes my bones raw and my heart unbearably still.
i feel it under my skin - the seed deprived of warmth, compassion transfigures into callousness.
perhaps it is the sound.
the endless stream of voices that rouse all that which I have chosen to suppress.
a symphony of discord, the aria of the heavens.
perhaps it is the transience.
the lover that comes as it wishes and goes as it pleases, yet lovely nonetheless.
that so carelessly comes to touch, yet as carelessly fades away.
perhaps it is the loneliness.
of streets barren as April fields, lowered heads and veiled faces.
of guarded footsteps and wary glances.
of caged men.
perhaps it is the darkness.
which has taken away every last shred of my solace.
which has called into question even my final faith - the permanence of hues ablaze.
raindrops batter upon my heart tonight.
each raindrop is a mirror that calls for me to decide the reflection i so seek.
i am, as usual, undecided.
Copyright © Benjamin Firth | Year Posted 2017
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