Once, the rain spoke back
In drowned tones from
Lessons learnt long before
Our grey tomes, wisdom
Without wearisome, a
Water sanctified in cloud,
Proud protectors of the
Above, below.
She was not of sorrow, not
Sanctuary, only servitude to
Sense, dense tentacles
Pulling me further down,
To drown in her watery halls
Where the wild kings fall and
The paper boats swim tall,
Above us all.
She told me of the lord so
Loud, lightning in name and
Devastating in fame, tamed never
And maddened always, by the
Drip drop bottle tops, silver
Songs, throngs of metal shine,
Time counting tiresome till
The strike above
Hitting below,
And then the rain will fall ever so
Slow.