mighty river’s flow

the tickling of rain, falling
against window glass lines my view
with streaks of fractured light
and broken sound…
the quiet death of suicidal
drops, colliding against clear
but solid- illusion…
how I feel for these lovingly mistaken
falling children of the clouds
oh that they should suffer
at my windowpane
without knowledge of the mistake
they are making in their falling…
and to see the love
my heart holds for you yet the same!
and decide rather to fall through trees
instead onto pane…
so that I might turn from that
which mirrors my descent and land
instead into the mighty river’s flow

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