Rain and Mist

There I camped at the edge of a small lake

Who had felt the pains of drought just as much as any deer or moose.

In the evening I wished that I had water,

And I guess that the gods took pity on me:

For winds blew and the rain fell.

And as the winds blew the dry lake became as a stormy ocean,

And washed over the barren plains. 

And I clung to a floating log,

As large as a mountain,

But as fragile as a babe,

And hung on to dear life amidst the stormy sea.

And just as I was growing weak and tired,

And weary of water and wont of rest,

The rain stopped falling, and the water washed away,

And left the sun shining and the birds chirping, as if nothing had happened.

And in the sky was a great and beautiful rainbow, 

Gleaming voluminous with radiant light.

And I followed it,

For it shone for days.

And finally,

At my feet was the rainbow,

And at my toes was a ring.

And on the ring was a jewel.

And the jewel shone like the sun.

And suddenly I found myself in a murky swamp;

I had arrived at the place where the dead do rest.