Skandha Rain

the skandha rain drips
gently,
persistently,
steadily
on the plains of life

unmindful blurred
mirages form
showing what seems to be true -
what seems to be truth -
yet just a mirage

some drops I hoped to keep
(so precious they were)
yet they fell from my hands

some drops I hoped to change
since they seemed imperfect
needing a this or
needing a that
yet unchanged by my wants
they remained droplets
in the stream of rain

the wanting did not change the rain -
it did not hear my call -
for that is not its nature

after all,
it's just the skandha rain

by Jerry Douglas
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