[Deluge ['[...]my life | Is every breath a death: and thus, unknown'

The sky is clear as any November cataract,

Scorching blue haze over the streets.

But it begins, with no creeping of cloud

To rain

From the empty sky.

Icy prickles crane heads upward
And no answer falls with the water.

And do clouds obscure our eyes as we rain fears,
Or are we then, weeping, more than ever,
A taste of that great clarity
That cavernous sky?