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He cracks whips 

Way up in the sky,

I hear him 

And he hears me,

A mutual nod 

As if we needed one

I'm undone by it,

Lost to it,

A perpetual feeling 

Of "Where's Waldo"

Stains me,

But the rain comes

To find me

...it always does 

A dripping sound,

The hell is it?

Where are my sturdy boots? 

My branded leather

Shouted up from 

The master on high 

That comes in gaudy 

But rivals elegant 

Have we forgot who we were?

The Simpletons 

The skeletons 

Stealing Suns

To better accept 

The ancient ones,

Although now

I'm not sure,

We all lied 

About who we were

And the rain could 

Do away with tall tales 

Or feelings of being unsure 

The subtle cracking 

The drips and drains

The washed away memories 

Or erroneous sympathy 

Does nothing for me now,

I'm a voyeur to it, 

A visitor 

Of what's to come 

The meteorological wonder 

You hide from