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
As long as he innerly 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 ~

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