The trail runs deep and long through the grooves of sorrow,
Cutting a path to the precipice where the rain ends its journey.

The water is unexpected yet honorable,
And it goes with a purpose down the trail it has always been.

The reasons why are unobtainable,
But maybe I wouldn't want to know the reason.

As it curves around the bend to flow over the hill,
I notice the way the fair skin glistens where the water has stained it.

The shimmering is beautiful,
And yet I feel it isn't natural.

How can such a raw display of emotion
Possibly be a part of unfeeling nature?

I'm stirred into action,
But the sight of your clean sadness causes me to hesitate.

Perhaps this sweet, gentle release
Is too beautiful to stem the flow,
But too bitter to watch in silence.

Should I just simply
Wipe the tears away?