Listening To Rain Thoughts
Lying in bed, listening
To nature groan overhead;
Heavily rain does fall
Drip by drip inside my wall,
This house so old
Has leaks - as does my soul.
Voiceless thoughts pour from the clouded sky
Creating water drops
Learning how to fly,
It showers down in crazy sheets, as
I lie and listen
To the strange things it speaks.
Lightning flashes
Thunder slashes -
The whirlwind opens many things,
With such wild wonders it brings.
A spate of mystery
Floods across history;
Things up
Things down
Things lost...
And things so found.
Snakes slither
Owls fly
People work and work
As together we move ever along,
All on our own way to die.
Some see the light
Some fear the dark
Through it all
God plays more than just a mere part.
All across the land
The four-winds increasingly blow,
While on the great waters
Wonderous waves continue to grow...
...(far off, somewhere, the rain does end,
for in the final analysis, God shall win.)
Still, now, the rains do fall.
As worms crawl, birds eat good
And so much appears to be
Just as it should.
But inside, the old house continues to leak
And the rotting floor creaks,
For I and the house are one,
And shall be until
The returning of the sun.
The sky drizzles gray
With another unlit day, as
Distant thunder rolls... far away.
The melancholy rain drips inside the pane,
The storm has slowed, but
When will it finally go...
Somehow I begin to see, dimly through the glass,
The faintest break in the overcast...
I fear it only an illusion,
It has been raining for so long that
I had dared to dread,
Perhaps the sun was indeed dead.
Like a stray dog
Looking for a bone
Like a drifter
Looking for a home,
Hope for what yet is to be found
Is what keeps our feet on dry ground.
So, I'll just walk along side Jesus
In this old driving rain
Let people look at us
Like we are quite insane,
For we've no need of
Umbrella or hat
No worldly garb
No none of that,
No pretentious show
No dogma to follow
No wasted words
Empty and hollow,
Together, with all the rest who care to listen,
We'll come to hear something new:
The sound of singing,
Out of the clear blue!
And eventually we shall find,
Beyond these old clouds,
The approaching sunshine.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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