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An afternoon has barely closed its eyes;
The worn out day's death
comes to cloak the light.
Pressing cover, the vast dome speaks of
lies,
With ceaseless time, sink deep the teeth of night.
The sky in
purple waves gives forth a drop
That falls to Earth and adds damp to the
chill.
Drinking deeply from the sky's harvested crop
The dry lands
stretch up content to gain their fill.
Each drop falls following now its
brothers
I, uncovered, stand against the torrents
Blind thoughts
escape one after another
That slash the beating sky in fresh currents.
And now all pray for it to never end
Yet we wait only for its cease
again.
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