ye rest not
and do not cry for the departed
the driving rain bears no sympathy
for the spiritually destitute, 
nor the broken hearted.

the lost and found carry 
the same umbrella
woven with holes 
for our hands to do their want and will
as fencers thrust and parry

as a whore simply loved too wreckless
as the drunkard just tries to spin
keeping quartz with a heavy draught of life
as one would grapple with the speed
of time contained within.

you learn to open toward the sky 
in one way or another;
to drink the fleeting storm
or dodging drops
til odin sain goodbye.