A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Song of Rain
A single path through a dry fountain, surrounded by dry grass
There was a song on my lips
A word on my tongue
A gray vacancy in my eyes
Held at bay by windless tides
And in your hand I felt
An arrhythmic pulse
Which lead me to realize
The heart had no dedication to any pattern
No 4/4 time or even octave
But I skipped a beat
Due to the dryness in my own throat
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