Drop by drop. One follows another.
Continual ripples. Meeting only at the circular bound.
Don't tell me that you detest it. How can you detest something so beautiful?
A source of your own individuality. Deepening your thoughts,
widening your perception. Showing you light in your darkest hours.

It takes away the colour. Letting it stream down the road.
Gathered in one single puddle, is a person's lonely thoughts.
And I feel for the man. He who was not listened.
I feel for the man. He who felt comfort streaming down his face.
Exposing him to reality and truth.

I only have love for it, not loathe.

On wet days, I stare at it pouring down in solace.
Why is it ignored? Why does he keep on walking?
So I reach out my hand, I welcome and embrace it.
I try to show comfort, for it is what it does to me.