protest

they gathered in droves,

the majority dressed in white

stripping away the individual,

inadvertently making each person’s face

more prominent, more pronounced.

they were all angry, they all had enough

and most of them wore white.

 

they spoke amongst each other

a hushed drone that reverberated,

though some brought their megaphones

and chanted and screamed,

raising their fists and punched the heavens,

hoping stars would fall,

hoping clouds would bruise.

 

but it wasn’t what was uttered

that was the loudest voice;

the shout took the form

of thousands of people;

the sight of it was thunderous

and booming.

 

mountains crumble not from one drop

but from the constant fall of rain.

 

What is rain?

It is thousands, millions of rain drops

falling and crashing unto the mountainside

stripping  it away of everything

that keeps it solid and together.

 

Even mountains crumble,

scattered by the wind as dust.

 

Let ir rain.

Let it rain drops of white,

one by one by one,

until the mountain stands no more,

 

 

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