In the wind I see the whisper of a name I cannot feel. A name I grasp to notice a name to help
me heal. It moves beyond my touch it seems so far today. The whisper becomes faint, I fear it
In the rain I hear a teardrop built on lies and shame. It falls in pools of loneliness it cannot see
the name. Drifting in an emptiness other teardrops speak. None can taste the whisper of the
name they always seek.
In the storm I build a shelter, a haven from the pain. Tears seeping through the cracks spelling
out the name. The name I need to make me whole, the one I cannot read. The one name that
can save my soul, the only one I need.
In the tempest I sense an answer to everything in life. Within it bitter teardrops cut deeper than a
knife. I’m far too lost and broken the name I cannot see. But if I chase the fleeting whisper it
might come back to me.