One night I sat at my window,
it was way past midnight,
for the moon was high above the clouds,
slightly peaking behind the foggy glaze.

Though people find no beauty in a cloudy night,
I feel all of peace come to me at once.
The light of the moon wash through me,
fill in my every crater,
fill in my every pain,
fill in my every sorrow.

As I allowed the moon to shower me with her luminescent light,
I began to feel the slight trickle of rain,
dripping from the heavens, and landing into the palm of my hand.

However, I was no longer focused on the trickling rain, but the beautiful movement of the clouds...
They were no longer blanketing the moon; in fact, they were tracing her beautiful outline, but in such rushed motion, that I couldn't come to comprehend.
I felt as if I were being taken away by waves of dark blue, pushed deeper and deeper into the sea, nothing to hold me, but the cold sand at the bottom of the ocean.
The clouds, slowly releasing her light, allowed me to see the moon, in its full glory.
And there was no more cloud to cover her beauty, I saw her, as she was.
And there was no more cloud, to say that there was ever rain.
For the trickling rain that slid into my palm, was a puddle of my tears.