Is it who I am, as the people stand and cry?
Why is it me, who is taunted to uphold.
To be the bringer of the rain, the wet and cold.
Down we pour, as if the heavens were one,
And down we fall, marking absence of the sun.
Away we go, falling downward so free.
Is this who I am, the rain that you see.
The rhythms crossing as we tumble to earth,
Wind howling in the spaces between us.
A slight uplifting draft passes beat to beat,
As we do all we know to be true.
Hear me, for I am the rain.
This bittersweet daydream coming through.
Hear my call for the forgiveness of pain,
And take back to deeper truths.
It is me who waits in every night.
And only me who knows the sight,
Of bringing car and city, all feet to halt.
Washing the dust of past of the asphalt.
