Between the streams of patterned drops,
the world remained just as it was
beneath the beams of breaking light
met weeks ago in brighter times

--the difference being,
on this night,

she could observe the storms defined
apart from what once seemed to be:

that necessary separation

detaching vision
from emotion,

a dawn of objectivity

when weather and perceptions fade
and suddenly
the mind might see
such rain suggests no sadness, pain,
nor anything so sad or vain;

it's just a mixture of conditions,

atmospherics,

transient,

precipitation of the hour.

At last, she knew
she had that power.