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No one hears the song of the lonely man
whose words are whispered in vain
never to be heard
banished by the march of the coming rain
Falling lightly
sifting through leaves above
while purging the pain
There he stands under a tree
in the shadow of a cloud-covered sun
he feels naked
he feels he is the only one
Pouring down mightily
trees providing no cover
to hide the wounds feeding his pain
Silhouetted in the field far from the tree
he stands with arms raised high
grief floods away
and he collapses under a throbbing sky
Coming to an end
unveiling the sun
the breeze carries away all pain
Notes: A simple melody that I have long since forgotten served as the catalyst for ``Rain,'' a poem that began more as a song. For some reason this poem always brings back memories of Stephen R. Donaldson's Thomas Covenant novels.