Cinerous Drops of November Rain.

Mystic tears of baroque, that soak up the crust of the horizon.
Dispersing the salt of the stars, compressing the rivers of diamond.
Will the skies fall down, and encompass us all with the drapery?
Will we be swallowed up, sucked into the pool we had made to be?

Parallel monsoon, depositing the leeches of morning.
Swirling drops in the lagoon, that fade in leaky forewarning.
Something lies at the pit, deepening inside the maelstrom's heart...
Parading in pattering flashes, pulsing in the wake of the beating dark.

Will the skies fall down,
to encompass us all with the drapery?
Will we be swallowed up,
sucked into the pool we had made to be?