Yes, it rained—it rained truth.
Yes! It rained, and the air turned clear,
Wiping the smudge from the morning view.
The truth is something we often fear,
Until it washes away what we thought we knew.
The truth is not the loudest voice in the room,
Nor the story we tell to make ourselves feel safe.
It is simply the quiet thing standing there
When all the lights go out,
Waiting patiently for you to finally look.
Yes… it rained, and the world grew still,
Washing the dust from the tired street.
The truth poured down upon the lonely hill,
Making even the broken things feel complete.
