Don't speak of rainbows now,
Because if rain falls at night
No rainbow ever comes.

The band of seven colors,
Rainbow is a promise
That ends disbanded.
Dissipated in your
Empty words,
You half-blind prophet.

Rain clouds in your galaxies
You thought
You hid them for safety.
You did not.
I found them.
I knew, I watched
Your galaxies through the years.

The wisest seer I am
I chased away those clouds away
By my resounding light.
Believing you'll send the rays back.

But failing to read my own fate,
I am here on this brimming ocean,
Forsaken by you and your story of rainbows.
Like stars abandoning their place
On dimmed bereaved heavens
Everyone looked up to,
Hoped for each night.

This is the season of rain,
And when it rains it pours.
You left me here
When everything is cascading, falling apart
While you found your own harbor.

So don't speak of rainbows now
Because if rain falls at night
No rainbow ever comes.
Light must precede it
And only I can find it
Inside me.
But rain must fall still,
This season of rain.