Morning

We're raining and things will get worse;
If we turn our minds from puddles
We'll regain our best advisor.
We've been challenged before,
Why do you fear the battle?
We're raining and the sun's return is close.
You cannot see beyond your cradle,
You wish to let it sink, mended by the stars
But healing you won't get from a poet.
I have my hope, but you're not worthwhile.