The rain,
Falls in sodden lumps upon the ground
As if the world itself,
Overcome by ineffable sadness
Cries inconsolably,
In relentless heavy sobs of grief.
What does it cry for?
The unborn child perhaps?
Or the poor and destitute?
The abandoned and the lonely?
The sick and ill of body or of mind?
Perhaps it is for all,
For all that had been done and will be done,
For all that must or might or should,
For all the wretched work of man.
And then these falling tears,
Laden with such heavy sadness,
May wipe away the bitter taste,
Of pain and morbid fear,
And the sun break through,
With rays of startling bright light,
To dry up all those tears,
And reveal a world all fresh and new.
For the rain like human hearts,
Burdened with regrets and heavy grief,
Must pass in time and softly abate,
But the sun will always remain,
To gently shine upon the earth.
