Wet Music

Rhythm becomes itself through song, so play along my friend.
I sought out the refuge of a sweet music.
I awoke from my dream of quite slumber
And ran to the sound of the clouds clapping

I even knew the rain when it called my name,
on the windowsill that was my thrill.
It dripped down my throat
And I summonsed it deep
Deeper, deep within me.

I called out for some might and strange comfort
But all there was was rain.
I knew its rhythm
Its rat, tap, tap, tish;
And I felt its percussion

As a repercussion of sad delight.
I envisaged the washed away notes.
And I summonsed it deep within my soul.

I was awash with rain when the rain came.
It was a deep well burst into the ground:
Summoning down my dripping delight
As sun broke down to uncerimonious seeking.

I waited patiently for the end my ache had foretold
And I knew why I didn't cry,
When the sky was audacious.

I reached behind that memory, that illusion; that delight
And tap tap typing typed my keyboard:
For a refuge was not forthcoming
I sounded through symphonic attempts at deeper welts,
Burning under my skin.
I cupped the rhythm and felt the shine
Of sun through wet window.

The rain was only the beginning.
The sun was the end.