Closets and Rainfall

I sit in the closet of my soul,
Freedom in Darkness.
The body and its concerns gone
The heart and soul
Free.

As hearing is enhanced by blindness
So too is reason.
The mind is unfettered in the dark
It’s free as my soul;
Soaring.

And so goes its flight:

If only some things didn't happen,
The peace were unmarred.
Events float gracefully along and
Seem fine but then they
Stop.

Abruptly things are not as they were
and then I sit still
(in my soul-closet)
Longing for what once was and is no more,
For innocence lost.
Gone.

And yet what is life but a process?
Slow adjustments made
Or rapid ones, it all seems the same
(in my soul-closet)
Perhaps the answer is not what is lost.
Perhaps nothing is
Lost.

All of life is precipitation
Nothing but Process
Trials rain from the heavens to the ground
But after the darkness
(in my soul-closet)
The light of the sun evaporates
Pain.

That which the sun pulls from the rainfall
Is used once again.
Assimilated into circuition
Sustaining all life
It is what we do with all our pain
That allows us to
Grow.

The soul-closet is
Open.