the blind man and the rain

As the rain returns
To its dark earthly slumber,
The blind man,
Feels the sun upon his eyes,
And a stirring is born
In the clouds.
When your cinnamon kiss
Rests upon the newborn wind,
The earth chases it,
Leaving mountains in its struggle.
He hears the rivers fall,
And baths in the thoughtless lakes.
It rains, when the winds of love
Forget your kiss,
And when everything
Is eager to remember you again.