Signs of Forever

Rain,

It fills my soul,

it knows my words.

The momentary substance of memorial dreams.

The changing mirror of living things.

It splatters down like paint,

and it covers the darkest portraits. 

It fills the streets like oil

and covers my heart with tin.

The oldest minds still feel it,

they acknowledge the draining beauty. 

And as chirping birds, we dance in the rain

and flutter in our secret ways.

We live and burn in the tears of God,

we writhe and turn in the soulless dawn.

We carve ourselves into moments,

and break in hidden worlds. 

We are at the mercy of figments, 

we are at the hands of silent stares.

The darkest nights bear the weight of shallow smiles,

and the pain of sorry eyes.

As drops of life, we fall into paper cups 

and melt into the green wallpaper. 

We collapse into creaking floorboards, 

and grow on blackened stone. 

We are born as the smallest trees,

and raised as barnyard mutts. 

We are made in streams with broken borders, 

and seen as older souls. 

We fly as bluebirds,

and fall as ashes. 

We pick ourselves up;

we pick out little lies, 

and we give our smiles to one another. 

The last message across time and space.

The last words of a life lived and a life fulfilled. 

The last time we give each other everything.