Oh lovely rain!

Sky crying for me.

I sat beside the goddess perched high in a dream. On a bench of vapor, eased in for the quiet. Leaned closer in to her sweetest smelling ear, petals of rose, left hand obscuring my lips lest the male spirits see what I say and take it from me, spread it for me. Pin a letter on me. I moved in slowly, and then whispered so softly - just the slightest whistle of air over lips - the contents of my heart and the dank knowledge decomposing in mind.

I said, I did this thing: I stayed here because I was lost and had to be found again.
Instead I have played too well.
Now there is too much to accomplish in too little time; I'm still finding my voice and I cannot yet tell of myself.
My heart, it invests poorly and I fear ruin.
And my husband, he has asked me not to return, throwing whatever remains asunder.

All this time.

I'm no good at not saying goodbye: How can I not go back there? I think I cannot bear it; it is all unbearable. But I no longer have time to cry, no longer may I lie in bed waiting for the haunting visions to leave and the inspiring ones to arrive. What do I do? I can't sit with myself, nor with others; only with tremors, lump in my throat, ache in my stomach….

She pulled away then so that when she turned her head she could see all of me better. Eyes a reflection of herself on the sunniest day studied the plea. She's a patient, generous one, she is. Of course, she said, I'll take it from you, take your tears and give them for all to bathe in. But when I do this for you, you must not in my absence lie with Self-Pity.