The big rain,
It falls upon me like so many
Knives. Each one
A sliver of silver. Each one
A flash of sudden brilliance.
They fall upon me, these things,
And I am cleansed with their ceaseless piercing,
Stabbing, onto my cold body, my burning heart.
As with all fires met with rain,
The dark sparks hiss and crackle with pain,
Becoming intense lines of brilliant red
They diffuse and spread through my being,
Flooding my senses with defiant burning.
My scream is blue and white, and one with the rain,
For I must be washed; my fire must go out
But those silver things, they are never ending
Silver white flashes over dying red.
Then a sweet, sterile numbness caresses my cindered soul
Like a heavenly balm.