Thinking In The Rain Poem by Sandra Feldman

I sat on an empty rock,
To gather the Rain,
Believe it or not,
The Rain flows thru my fingers,
Producing pain.

All my life,
Things have been the same,
Illusions that fly,
Never reaching the sky.
In the rain, I cry,
Asking why?

Ideals,
Were a steal,
When the Horse of Troy appeared,
When'La Grande Illusion' and
Jean Renoir gave it a try,
On the World War sky,
When the gods still magnified,
Their power over mankind,
And said things would be fine.
Not so, you know,
They Lied!

Mankind,
There's nothing kind about man
Money, greed, jealousy and Speed,
That's what man traffics on.

The Arts,
Rainwater for the Hearts,
The sensitive ones, that however,
Later discover,
That the Arts are also a farce.

It doesn't pay,
To be Thinking in the Rain,
Now, does it?