Wailing Skies
By Constantine
The rain never stops,
The cloudy days and stormy nights,
The gloomy days and muddy nights,
The pain never stops,
The sour days and bitter nights,
The troubled minds and triggered sighs,
The silent tears and sleepless eyes,
The unanswered whys, the weary cries.
The rain never stops,
Just when I think the skies have cleared,
Another storm appears,
Just when I dare to breathe again,
The heavens open up with rain.
Why must the calm be so brief,
Why must relief be dressed in grief?
Must every joy pay sorrow's price,
Must every dawn invite the night?
The rain never stops,
It beats against this shattered heart,
And tears what little hope remains apart.
Its thunder drowns my wailing cries,
Its echoes swallow all my whys.
How loud must I cry for help to be
A voice that even storms can see?
How far must these tired lungs depart
Before my cries outgrow my heart?
The rain never stops,
And like Job, I sit beneath the skies,
With ashes at my feet and questions in my eyes.
What have I done to earn this pain?
Why must I learn to walk through flames?
If every trial must teach me why,
Must I be broken to grow wise?
And if I stumble, if I fall,
Must I find meaning in it all?
The rain never stops,
Sometimes I wonder as I stand,
With all my plans slipping through my hands,
If there is purpose in this pain,
Or if some wounds bring nothing but pain.
Must every loss make sense someday?
Must every debt of grief be paid?
Or can I simply mourn what's gone
Without knowing why I must go on?
The rain never stops,
Yet something in me will not yield.
A stubborn root beneath a battlefield,
A candle cupped against the gale,
A little faith that will not fail.
Though every gust may bend the flame,
I guard the light without a name.
I cannot tell what waits for me,
But I refuse to cease to be.
The rain never stops,
It keeps beating on this broken heart,
Keeps tearing what the tears could not.
Its thunder shakes my wailing lips,
Its downpour drowns my fingertips.
Still, I will raise my voice again,
And let it mingle with the rain.
For even if the storm won't part,
It has not silenced this weary heart.
And if tomorrow brings more rain,
More sleepless nights, more hidden pain,
I'll meet the clouds, weary and worn,
Still seeking grace through the storm,
I may not know what storms are for,
Or what awaits beyond the door.
But though the rain may never cease,
I'll walk through it, still seeking peace.
The rain never stops.
And perhaps it never will.
But I have questions yet to ask,
And miles to walk against the blast.
Let the thunder roar above,
Let the heavens test my trust.
I'll keep crying through the storm,
With a heart still bruised, but beating on.
For even when the skies grow dark,
And rain falls heavy on my heart,
I'll keep my voice above the rain,
Not because I'm free of pain,
But because I'm still here to complain.
On narrow screens, wrapped lines continue at an indent.
