Awake, I listen to the wind run her fingers through the curtains,
as they twist and tremble,
and feel the cold tendrils of her breath brush my tired sleepless eyes.

There is a taste of rain on the edge of it.

Rain that will wash away
yesterday,
today and tomorrow.

Rain that is infinite- particles recycled over and over again.

A taste of centuries,
the tendrils of time
retelling the same stories;
our long breaths of sorrow,
our short gasps of joy-
all set on repeat
to cycle around
again and again..

Have we felt this same despair
for eons?
Will we still dance
with this same darkness
for eons to come?

Will we still ask the same
unanswerable
questions about life
only for the rain
once again
to come and wash them away
with our falling tears- infinite particles
passing through
our finite
momentary
lives.