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In a dream, rain ran previous me.
Half-shouting, half-stumbling. Tripping over its gown of rain.
Magnificence all the time appears to hurry straight via me. On its approach to someplace else.
Years in the past, a youthful, extra harmless rain
fell throughout the doorway the place my mom lingered, carrying laundry.
Behind her, cherry blossoms boomed throughout a cave of pure sky.
Which is how I bear in mind it.
Which is possibly the way it occurred.
Once I look again for too lengthy, the wonder is gone.
In a dream, I stroll throughout a plain carrying books full of flowers.
Folks in books carry tulips and secrets and techniques and handwritten letters to one another.
Possibly my life is making an attempt to inform me one thing. Nowadays,
I wish to wander. However the previous nonetheless wants me.
How might I ever go away?
In any case, a ship isn’t any good within the rain.
I fill my ineffective boat with ineffective wildflowers. Sail uselessly throughout the ocean.
When Ulysses requested for wind, it’s as a result of he knew precisely what he could be shedding.
My journey is that this baby made from rain. Already misplaced.
Once I come again to life, I hope to be greater than our struggling.
Like, my god the storm is so shimmering, unbelievable and glad. I wish to break like that.
Over every part.