Forever falling
wrathful clouds, between
the once-dry masses and the
stark void of night
where even the most neighborly star
lies far beyond our mortal reach
Water, its pure essence
distilled by the cocoon wafting
in the sky, arrives in all its glory
and terror
to nourish the dying fields
where prayers had long gone unaswered
or to foster raging rivers
that seek to destroy all that dared
block its path to a waiting ocean
Over basalt cliffs the water
now stained with earthly sin
swan-dives, on its way to
end one cycle and wait for another.
Unspoken Politics 