Sky Tears

All is gray, and

cocooned by water-soaked clouds

the sky tears descend,

and I, like in

a drumming circle,

am massaged by

the random beats

upon the tin.

Does anything still exist

beyond the gray?

Only I,

as the sky's tears

beat rhythms

white noise

lulling me to center,

plunging deeply

urged by the

visceral chanting

of the sky's tears

upon the crown,

pass through

the tearing eye,

Home.