I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.
And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.
My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.
And as a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.
And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.
And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.
- Paul Simon
I lay in bed, awake. Tears stream unchecked across my cheeks, down through unshaven stubble and onto my pillow. I weep silently, full of pain and sorrow and regret. Hot tears, like ... Like nothing else I know. No appropriate simile comes to me. I wonder what the future holds. I can see no better than trying to catch a glimpse of a face in jagged shards of a broken mirror. Fractious. Splintered. Broken.
Broken.
Broken.
Is there a balm in Gilead?
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