I was going through old files and folders when I found manuscripts I had forgotten about. This poem is one of those.
As The Rain Came
A rhythmic, steady
beating on the roof,
An ancient
timeless tribal ritual –
He’d heard before,
drumming into his soul
calming the restless spirit
for the moment,
a peacefulness
of the moment,
that was new
(or long forgotten)
As the rain came.
The drumming continued
pulsating endlessly,
Barely containing
the restless spirit –
The world lay still,
As memories drifted by
pulled from a heart-dug well
insignificant,
to the beauty he knew,
insignificant,
to that place in time,
that was new
(not soon forgotten)
As the rain came.
A rhythmic, steady,
beating on the roof,
An ancient
timeless tribal ritual –
He’d heard before,
But the drumming and the beauty
shared the soul of the restless spirit
returning the joy,
that was new
(not soon forgotten)
As the rain came.
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Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.
Peace be with you.