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A Soul of Misty Grey
Sometimes the calm comes not before,
But in the howling of the storm,
Deep breath,
Then cool release,
Chaos finds sweet relief in rain’s cacophony,
In each drop,
A warped reflection of the world,
Rain like tiny mirrors bearing us our souls,
In the monochrome,
The nature of truth revealed is steely grey,
We see not our own life,
But the lives of those an infinity away,
Perhaps it’s only me,
But in the mist and rain I find cool familiarity,
In the pattering of icy drops,
In the life-smell of damp moss and rocks,
A namaste sense of similarity,
Because after all, in my heart of hearts,
In the center of my soul, it’s always raining.
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