Your Brain Is 75 Percent Water
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It rains in ratio, through the black broken screen,
It rains a steady downpour,
And these infinite drops call me to them,
They draw me out the back door,
To whooshes of pink and whispering white,
From the oxford blue eyes of the sky,
Staring to me, and I, alone, staring to them,
Then I simply begin asking them: Why?
Why does the white moon hide in the black,
Behind the clouds in the night,
Why does the rain melt into my spark,
Why does the rain vanish from sight,
Becoming my spirit, the heart of my soul,
Becoming everything I’ve ever known,
Why do you shower your love as a rain,
Making all life on earth your home?
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2018
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