(written 1999)
Words of thought like rivulets flow
filling streams with melted snow
Their lively pace then slows down
becoming deeper, withholding sound
But some thoughts evaporate into the air
becoming distant clouds so fair.
Then things change and they darken
thunder rolls and humans hearken,
and then the rain falls hard or soft
pattering the roof above your loft.
And as you listen to its sound
worlds of thought can then be found.
For falling rain speaks of many things;
of destiny and death, and thoughtful kings;
of life and love, and diamond rings.
And as the rain runs to the stream,
it reflects the Galaxy’s distant gleam,
capturing incredible stories to speak,
in babbling brooks by your favorite creek.
And then from there it flows again,
past mountains, forests, and hidden glens,
through old lives under burned bridges,
past empty lands beneath high ridges,
and onward through the lands below
words of thought forever flow
down into a great vast sea
where they can rest and forever be free.
-JHJ