Rain has a tendency to wash away all thought,
To make tomorrow clean and unmistakeably fresh.
Somewhat similar to every morning,
When waking up,
To accept daylight as if a young child;
New life and chance upon a path
Joined together with some answers,
And much more desire and openness
To find the next step forth.
As tears roll down sunlight’s fingers,
Only self can find shade
To silence what always will be
Into motionless innocence
That plays along the shore
With buckets full of sand.