Do you know the language of the rain?
Can you hear the grammar of its tears
fallen from the sky like fallen angels
that wet the wasted landscape of the world
with their blood
where river song is frozen in the mud
and no wood sings?
Do you weep beneath the moon and tremble
as you stand before the tombstone of the earth
and leave dead flowers on its frozen grave
then wonder where to go?
The rain must know.
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