The sky blackened,
The rain fell,
Our bodies slackened:
We were in a spell.
The wind-swept rain sprayed on to us
And the dullest of thoughts were cleansed.
In this coolness of ambience
And the warmth of our friendship
The weariness of ambition was drained
In the sewer of oblivion, and all that settled
On our hearts was the gladness of existence,
The gratitude of this perception invaded by heaven,
Of the gift of consciousness to feel this and feel
Nothing else: no want, no grudge, no property,
No debt, no height, no depth; nothing;
The gift of wanting nothing but this.
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