She brings the rain, with it a collection
of ethereal words, once discarded
that should have been forever lost upon
human ears. Their fragments, although lovely,
could not be gathered into poetry
without guidance, and the glamour of a
purpose. A sempiternal meaning can
be derived from anything of little
consequence: fire, rolls of thunder, a name.
You unravelled my most founded of fears,
leading me from a labyrinth of a life’s
worth of cynicism. Memory claims.
An epiphany of sudden volition.
If these words are unkempt and chaotic,
broken, even, they still belong to me.