Pitter patter fell, lucid pearls of rain
Marring poise of silence
Knocking came old pals, on my window pane
Streeling through in cadence
Muddled in comess quelled beneath the pain
I hid my countenance
Yet the friends of yore, continued to stain
Environs with incense
“Falls are oft irenic, Linchpin are
The greys, purging out
All afreets of fears, Fillip they ordain
To life of quintessence”
Gleaming with insight
No longer profane 
Found I new Renascence
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