Rains on the Plains

I heard a whispering that sounded like thunder on the horizon,

A gentle power heard with eyes that seek,

It is with ears that don’t speak that I try to fathom the lightning,

To perfectly catch a strike sometime before I sleep,

There’s a storm that’s being brewing to the pounding of hearts,

This melting of contemplations I’ve had for days,

What I’ve been thinking has been a drizzle long forgotten in these parts,

Some sort of drought that interrogates the feelings unpaid,

The clouds they weep as I stand on them with bare feet with hard soles,

They wring out the old tales told by the ghosts in the plains,

In the folds of the sky my dreams they deny what they have been told,

As the drumming silence slips through my hands with the pain…