What falls in the rain
in the nighttime of the world?
I see the rain when shone by the street lamps,
each drop careering to the ground.
There are bodies hunched about themselves
rushing through the falling, with no sound but steps.
No words and no acknowledgement of me.
I cannot reach them.
I cannot connect with them. Not truly.
I do not seem to know how.
Never seemed to have known.
But I try, as they run past me.
We are all vessels I think, enclosed in ourselves.
The lucky are able to breach their shells,
to touch the faces of others.
But we who are not so fortunate
ever pick at the thickened walls
with whatever implements we come to fashion.
Hammering and picking away
with what little hope that has not yet been ruined.
Nothing but a hollowness within.
I think I know what falls in the rain:
I fall in the rain.
M.M. — 24-Mar-2016
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