Rain

Rain, kissing concrete,
The crying walls
Of sad buildings,
Blankets protect warmth,
As well as the souls
of the flying sleeper.
The real duck descends,
Into the pool of the ether.
Neither can speak,
But all recognize the presence
Of black crystals,
And local issues.
Reality recognizes fantasy,
Only at a glance,
Only for its existence,
Just to muse man.

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