The Rainman
I am besieged by rain,
its metallic rapping
tearing and scraping,
ripping, and shaking
all fleshly sense.
Worse, I am losing my grip,
lulled along by a swift swirling of sound,
a revolving miasma,
bringing me deeper into a resonant hole,
wherein all of nature seems to rise
and swell to some great, miraculous state of fruition...
and I am gone,
unchained,
released from the many fetters
that bind me to the cerebral world,
well beyond the aches and chains
of thought,
and thrust headlong into the fires,
the cataclysmic hell
of reality,
where I know
my heart and soul belong.
There is rain in my blood –
I can hear its fire.
Listen. Can you hear it?