The rattling of the rain is far too much
Truth for us to bear. There's nothing to see
So we can't say we perceive the truth as such,
Just its rattle from far away, where we
Once agreed to leave, to reclaim the lost
Idea, what permeates all we think
Here, where nothing exists per se, just a host
Of godlike structures built by man. We blink
And they're gone, and it's like we're really grieving,
The strings of Orpheus sound out our leaving
As bracelets of stars listen from our home
To what we have learned, in our orphaned blue,
What we can't remember, felt to be true
And sung, alone in our echoing dome.
