The raindrops that streak down my face are like words.

Every single on with meaning, with the potential to be so many things.

They are the joy of a spring rainbow,

The fear of impending storms,

The anger of lightning.

They give you knowledge and power, like valiant words.

They, most importantly, give life.

Writing is like strong, glacial rivers. 

It is powerful and moving, yet devoid of hue and life.

Poetry is like an Estuary, colorful and livily.

It requires more than a simple glance to see all the life below the water, all the meaning

which is sometimes hidden

Deep,

Deep,

Down.

And sometimes, rain is just beautiful.