dissapearing into nothing

8 p.m. and rain starts to
grow on my windows like mould

silently it watches my life
ready to pour like it just did
I watch it too, and realise that
it is inconscpicuous only because
of the equally raw gloom of night

this rain has no scent, no cheerful
fragrance from after a shower
no comfort no restoration
just draws on everything like a pencil

but it waits, motionless - like creatures
frozen in ice, with grim persistence,
before it finally recedes into nothing

so short lived is permanence, so short
it gives longevity to the temporal
as we trace their evolution,
both switch places frequently
as from both sides of a mirror

what we think will stay goes quickly
what we think will go quickly stays
we wish that some things stay and
we wish that some things go
but whether they stay or go we don't know

eventually we approach that point
where nothing goes, or nothing stays.