This Existential Rain

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ This rain will not stop its relentless reproach, a slow erosion of soul. A weeping dark well of syncopated teardrops tap, tap again and again, and again. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Through a blurred window, an opaque view into seasons of sorrows, melancholy dreams felt yet not fleeting. Life's brackish silt in a rivulet drains, into deeper darker swirling drains. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Wood rots from rain and time's insidious attack, whose immutable end is our self-same passage and fate. After its ravage remains inexorable pain, and this unrelenting existential rain. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ [ed. note -- just experimenting.]