Reign

A very old peice I stumbled across. I try to stay away from poetry, probably for the best.

Reign
by John Monroe

I turned my gaze to the Heaven's
and witnessed the plight of the rain.
Screaming, the drops fell to the insatiable earth,
each drop a kiss of cold fire upon my skin.
She whispered to me on the hungry wind,
"You are naught to me, an afterthought at best
and I will blow your ashes to the four corners
long after your children have passed from memory."
And I smiled as Her tears ran down my cheeks.