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No one hears the song of the lonely man
whose words are whispered in vain
never to be heard
banished by the march of the coming rain

   Falling lightly
   sifting through leaves above
   while purging the pain

There he stands under a tree
in the shadow of a cloud-covered sun
he feels naked
he feels he is the only one

   Pouring down mightily
   trees providing no cover
   to hide the wounds feeding his pain

Silhouetted in the field far from the tree
he stands with arms raised high
grief floods away
and he collapses under a throbbing sky

   Coming to an end
   unveiling the sun
   the breeze carries away all pain

Notes: A simple melody that I have long since forgotten served as the catalyst for ``Rain,'' a poem that began more as a song. For some reason this poem always brings back memories of Stephen R. Donaldson's Thomas Covenant novels.