Rain
I
don’t know
if there’s anything
quite as pretty
as watching
the rain's reflection
dance on my dash.
Each
drop
original
flowing
in
a
form
never
seen
and
never
forgotten,
creating
and
recreating
its shape
shaping
and
reshaping
its creation,
flowing
in and out
of perception itself,
vague existence
replaced
by vague nonexistence,
Where does the rain begin
and where does it end?
-James Floman-
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