Those clouds look familiar,
but I love the rain.
The sound starting so soft
and then building up like an uncontrolled burst.
It's days like this when the rain pours,
I realize I have not broken through the clouds in a long time.
___________________________________________________
Perfection cannot recognize itself in the mirror,
and the dinge of time layers itself on everyone.
As we are weighted down by our own filth,
we do not move fluid with the universe.
Up the current,
and tired we force away from progress.
Purity cannot look at itself anymore.
We are all tainted.
We are all humbled.
But in our imperfection we find moments.
And they take parts of us,
and carry those bits to a place;
we spread unconsciously around the world.
To become
again
part of the universe.
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