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.]
Copyright © Rhys Matthew | Year Posted 2012
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