From this angle you would never know by the grey skies and rain
that nature has anything to show but dull, unending pain.
From this side you would think that the bruised skies and water melt
Were darkening signs of danger, in colder fires smelt.

You see the deepening colour and wish to run, but hold
For in the darkening skies you know there is something.
The skies they are telling you one wrong thing, but be bold
For to all wrong things there’s a right that will sing.

And you move slowly, small steps that evade fate,
Because there is, you know, more to this than grey
Pelts of rain and drear and sorrow come late
In the startling design of a rainbow midday.

From this angle you would never know that life was ordinary
And filled with sadness and sorrow and unending diagnosis.
From this side you would believe in brilliance and colour
And life and the resilience of the human soul made visible.

For the rainbow depends upon the miracle of the angle.
Without which it is nothing but rain.