It’s begun to rain,
the first drops of change,
and here I sit,
ever in chains.
Then, something new
calls out to claim
closer now I am,
to the source of pain.
Without regret
I dodge shame.
Though I never forget,
myself, I do remain.
While the thunder rolls,
out across the plain.
The drops are larger,
of fresh refrain.
Here I can become,
that beyond name.
So here I sit,
encompassed in rain.
All things succumb,
In gentle May repose
All with rule of thumb,
the meek shall ever row.
For them I say this:
never falter on the path,
nor lose sight of the math,
return in time to that past;
the deepening rain,
and literature of last.