• alisdaire_ocaoimph 59w

    The rain

    How hard these drops
    That crashes down
    Sweeping the ground
    Upon which I stand
    I am washed
    Clean to the pain
    That dark vain
    That has held my soul
    Captive to the wrongs
    The sins that flooded
    Filled and drained me.
    Free upon the chill
    That sweeps my form
    Like a raging storm
    Accepting, feeling
    These blessings
    That stream down
    Across my frown
    Baptised within
    Each fine drop
    That touches
    Holds tight
    The skin,
    Soaked deep
    In the love
    Of god.

    Alisdaire O'Caoimph