It rains on the just
and the unjust equally,
quenching thirsty hearts
while flooding stone cold reason
entrenched through the centuries.
pour out the richest of grace,
filthy hands raised high
purified by springs of love;
living water for parched souls.
Now soaked in mercy
like fresh springs in a wasteland,
approach with all joy
to drink from salvation’s well;
impermeable no more.
Poetry Type: Tanka