I held out my hand to the rain,
Saw the drop land,
Like a marble,
Glass, reflecting visions,
An eye in miniature,
Seeing the world,
Through a glistening lens,
A world caught in pause,
A second, maybe less,
Encapsulated in liquid form,
A teardrop on the face of time.
More rain now,
Washing away a memory,
The moment is lost,
Drowned by the monsoon,
Yet to a single drop,
How is that calculated,
My hand, wet,
I turn it over,
Seeing not rain but tears,
The world cries,
And I cry with it,
I raise wet hands,
To wet face,
Tears flow and mingle,
With those of a greater soul,
The world cries,
And no one is there,
To dry its tears.
PiecesOfPatrick 