What it's about?
It's always about different things.
nightly rain drips memories
early morning the remnants of one voice.
no time signature to this rhythm
only listening remembering drips.
everyone could hear this, i think to myself
but i am the only one here.
what is contained within these drops of rain?
words, syllables, letters.
long epic stories, ungraspable.
too many drips for entire universes to be in each one.
they are notes in a symphony,
and the music is my patience.