A heavy heart for the rain that falls,
each drop a cooling touch to the burn,
a steady sound and beat to level the dizziness.
I can feel the world move,
carrying me with it whether I speak or cry,
an undulation and continuous sigh.
There is stillness even with all this chaos,
stillness in the rain
when thoughts leave to the parched plains.
Isn't it easy to let go when we still ourselves this way?

Memories fill caged lungs with sand,
oppressive breaths that spur movement.
and harsh words will change the hearts left behind.
Papers burn, and how the sands churn,
a thick tar of thought still clings,
does it not?
How elusive we try to be through the phases,
delicate braids to clasp the mask.

Floating in the starlit pool,
the skies reflect with odd clarity
Here lie the stars for true,
in the swell and ripple,
a pool of forgetfulness to drown our sorrows.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Bellum, in the year 525 AD.