Rain at 2 AM.
No one would know
except the third shift,
insomniacs, and night owls.
We are fortunate to get
and the cold lock
that settled the heat.
It pushed it away.
The titter tatter, pitter patter
of pebble soft rounds
on the roof and objects.
On the third floor where only god
resides above, the spacious sky
creeps into a void. There is
nothing beyond, the naysayers
will preach. Everything else
is tinfoil hats and conspiracy theories.
But we all know the intangible is tangible.
And the hush of ceased rain serves
as a reminder that only god
but our encounters of the third kind
may not be discounted in any manner.
Only lost in the confusion
of a consolidated solitaire
with the necessity
“Reconciliation Requiem” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.