A Most Human Rain.

A Most Humane Rain.

 

©-MFB III

 

Saline slipstreams,
fall in rivulets
across my cheeks.

They run like verbs,
because they are
the ink of the soul,
but it flows clear
as it washes out
the darkness,
A cleansing
from within.

Our bodies are made up
of mostly water,
it can't help but escape,
when the pressures
of life leak free,
as precious droplets
of emotion finger-paint
our face.

Tears have moved men
to stop war,
aid the hungry,
comfort the sick,
and to look deep into
their own souls.

There is no shame in crying,
only apathy in not weeping.
The world is full of sorrows
one would think the masses
would be dissolving in tears,
and perhaps they are,
in the wee hours of mourn.

Perhaps it's raining tears
even as we dream.
perhaps not,
but let them flow,
because if they are left,
bottled up inside,
one can drown
in their own despair.

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