Of The Rain

This rain…
This rain entails of a story
Belonging to a lonesome man lost to his own shadow
Whereas he had been blinded by himself
With the entrusted sheen of his own light

So when the thunder would sound
His heart would skip a beat
Allowing lighting to surge throughout his body some what freely

Therefore, unto these dark clouds would he remain as a jolt of wonder
As well as a stone to these heavy winds
And Like a God would he stand tall towards this ill-fated storm

He would walked amidst this downpour as if
The holy waters that fell from the heavens were apart of his soul

And of a demon he would seem to some
Because within this raging undying torrent
He would sit as its indestructible heart

The crucified crux known as the devil’s monsoon…

Yet underneath the broken tears that fall from the sky
Together beneath the elegant silver enchanted moon
This rain…
This rain would flood the man with an everlasting ambition

In light of his own shadow
That any storm would be nothing,
But a manifestation of the tears he had held within so…
As long as he internally cried, so long would any storm seem as such

…Hope is what the rain brings to the man
For you see
In time even the rain would eventually come to its end

~ Paradise’s Poet ~