Where is the Rain?

I know a quiet man who wonders where his passion is.

Did he lose it?

Did it somehow not ship with the original packaging?

He laughs like a ten-year-old and he listens like a man in his 80′s: head bent, silent, considering.

When he speaks he is often wise, not because he’s brilliant but because he speaks his whole truth.

(Though sometimes, he is brilliant.)

And unless it’s true for him, he remains silent. Watchful.

He often says things which must be spoken but no one else dares.

Where is my passion? he asked me last night.

He thinks,

when his passion comes,

it will shower down on him

like rain.


2 Responses to “Where is the Rain?”

  1. Jeffrey Fillion Says:

    I like poems that remind me of me. This is one. Very well done. And quite captivating.

    Jeffrey Fillion

  2. L.C. Chase Says:

    That is beautiful, Edmond. Thank you for sharing it. :-)

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