As I stare, out my window
A whole new world I can see.
It's nothing like what I know
Timeless tales of Odyssey
Told by each droplet from high
Across tarnished panes of old
Dancing against the grey sky
T'is not warm, yet not too cold.
Often the heavens do rage
Seething forsaken thunder
Booming from cloud-guarded cage
The flashes gleam asunder.
Burning the ground when they hit
Striking with melancholy
Lasting for less than a whit
Vanishing in their glory.
Oh, abhorred Midas touch!
Scarring revered sand to glass!
It will not do- t'is too much!
Disaster has come to pass.
Deafening sound each long day
Or night? It is uncertain.
There is no dark, light- just grey
The skies rid unknown burden.
The heavens echo strange rhythm
"Deathless drummer, kindly stop!"
Beg voices from broken chasms-
Sleepless amidst failing crop.
Yet, one fails to realise
Harsh Nature's painful beauty
Each cry- contrite sacrifice
To create a symphony
In the air as lights do blend
Within a drop build color
An arc of seven friends sent
Cleansing any mood so dour.
It is sudden, unknown, new.
One cannot see it arrive
Yet it exists, among a few
Splashes of grey that survive.
So, oftentimes it is said
When all is lost in a storm
From the ashes of the dead
Will rise hope with unique form
That one cannot understand
Or recognize at first glance
Explore the glass of the sand
Don't lose faith, take a chance
It will hold your hand throughout
Bearing hail, fog, mist and rain
Keep it close, for, without doubt
It will be worth all the pain.