Poetry Break: It Only Rains Outside!

The world is not a happy place

For those with an ideal

It's beastly hard work to replace

Your dream with what is real.

And when you do, you're apt to find

The colour's been bleached out:

The sounds of life within your mind

Are whisper-quiet without.

Nothing holds your interest now.

No wonder, when it's all

So drab and dull and silent. How

Can you see through the pall?

Is life worth living? Maybe so--

But is this living life

If all inside has ceased to grow

And all outside is strife?

And people say "feel better, chum!"

As if it were a game...

"Snap out of it", they say, "ho-hum!"--

Do they not know your name?

I do. And I can understand

The hell you're going through.

I know the layout of its land

For me, it's nothing new.

I could just say "this too shall pass"

And shrug away your pain...

That's not in me to do, alas:

I can't but share the rain.

Remember who you really are.

You're more than what you see.

Much more. In fact, I'd go so far

As to insist you be

An angel. "Oh, no" you'll say,

And tell me you don't feel

angelic--even human!--Nay,

you're nothing 'til you heal.

But that's not true. I know it's not,

Because you've got it turned around.

It's what's outside that's gone to rot:

The inner you's still solid ground.

It may not seem so. It may seem

As if you're in a mental quake.

That's when the walls twixt life and dream

Can tumble down. And it might take

That tumble 'til you finally see

The nightmare you were in

For what it was. Believe you me,

That once you do, you will begin

To understand that there is naught

You have to do now. You are free

No need to refight wars you fought,

To build anew. You'll only see

What I've seen all along: that you're

Above all that on wings of gold.

You'll be awake, and living for

Yourself, inside, safe from the cold.