Nausea

The rain is a constant.
An everlasting white noise.
It does little to calm the youthful soul.

You must see me through the rain,
Because I see you–
I’ve always seen you–
Caught in your vision,
Tethered to your form.

My eyes move to you without a thought.
A silent pull I cannot ignore.
The rain attempts to distract me–
Attempts rendered futile–
For I always find my way back to you–
Your stillness in the chaos.

The rain,
It tries to blur my view of you,
But your warmth shone through.
As the rain clouds the sky with its ugly shades of gray,
It tends to forget
That it is only when it is darkest
That you can see the stars.

You,
the Sun.
And me,
The seed.