Cynic

Raining

Cynic


Heavy rain, my Lord,
you bring to the city,
disclosing hidden thoughts;
baptismal water
steeping my body,
rejecting my soul.

Whispers of wind change to cries
beyond my ear,
scattered shadows evoke
a whirl of remembrances;
sweet entities,
emotional shots
made of broken destinies.

And I ask you, my Lord,
why my love lies in hate
and my dreams in death;
why the holy breath of life
crossed my mud backwards;
a book read from the end,
that's what I am.

Still raining,
cold tears of lucid pity
sliding down on my back,
shivers of a life waiting for the rain
to rise to the sky;
illusions of a loving mind
forced to live searching
for a dream just to blow it out!

And I pray you, my Lord,
to be my last dream
in this rainy day,
the one where life and joy
will marry my sorrow,
a unifying dimension
in which my soul will finally rest.