Of Rain

Of Rain

This is a simple truth: thoughts of man are made of dust. Temporary does not begin to describe them.

This is a tricky truth: words of man are made of mercury. Unstable does not begin to unwind them.

This is a cruel truth: lives of man are made of iron. Harsh does not begin to erode them.

This is a deep truth: songs of man are made of rain. Mending does not begin to fill them.

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