Is there a well from whence hope doth spring?
Or does rain drench our pallid faces
In its cool refreshment
Only if we dare to
Turn our eyes toward the heavens
While the stream of our brethren
Flow past in a teaming collective
Umbrellas in hand like towers
Shielding from the truth of
Any given situation
Panic-stricken at the slightest gust of wind
Which might threaten the stability of the
Mighty floating splatter guard
Dripping fear all around
⛆ﾟ ⋆ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ⛆
I skip through the shower in joy and peace
Knowing the truth
That rain falls on both the righteous and the unrighteous
The blessing is in the eye of the beholder
Let your heart grow
Like a field of golden wheat
Don’t drown in the inches as they fall
Let the drops soak in
Permeating deep
So that they may sink in
Helping you to grow
⛆ﾟ ⋆ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ⛆
Repelling their soaking nature
Only lets them gather and
Mature into a ravaging flood
The destruction of everything you've built
Leaving the land barren, depressed
So turn your face to the wind
Soaking in the truth of reality
You may find
There is more there for you
Than you
First discovered
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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