Sky And Earth Poem by Rhys Owens

The rain hangs now, in Valentine cards, from the trees.
―Waiting, days and nights, to be returned.
Union, as the gods that stand for wholes,
The Living Planet―the Far Off Sky.
Now, that weeping is laughed at by the poor.

Nightmares, staining the pure longing with neurosis,
False advertisements, false hopes, defunct spiritual homes.
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall; the copy-machine weekdays,
Sober drunken weekends―sick unto death.
The rain still hangs from the trees, and the tears that caress the ground
Are only a strange letter from far away.