"The accidents of Truth and Nature"

When her tears ran dry, the earth implored
The thundering cloud to cry her some more,
The tiny drops to their mother,
Reluctantly did bother,
To roll down one another, and stream to the floor

The cloud wafted on with impassive ease
Oblivious to its earth, plagued and diseased,
It rolled and thundered,
Said "Nay!" and did wonder,
Why his rain could never her thirst appease

"Well I cry for the world, and I cry for what they do,
And I keep some for the plants, and I water them too,
And then when they die,
I dry up my eyes,
And if there's some left, I cry it for you."

"Well, that makes you a pansy, a hypocrite, a fool,
Wasting what you need, despite what they do,
Loving you illusion,
Feeding your delusion,
Blind, sanctimonious, obstinate as the mule!"

And then she cried what was left of her pride,
"These tears are for you," she slowly replied,
Silently he rose,
So threateningly close,
"Then forgive me for mine that I choose to hide..."